Protecting Norman (Book 1)

by Skylar, A. J.

  The drive is long, and I love being able to drive way over the speed limit. There is no one to stop me. I notice movement on the road ahead of me. I’m heading towards a horde of zombies, so I slow down. I will not risk driving in the field since I don’t want to get stuck in some hidden hole in the ground. I’m going to take my chances and bash right through them because they can’t stop me. As I push closer, I discover that there are too many zombies.

  It looks like I’m heading towards hundreds of zombies! I increase my speed to crash through the zombies!

  I charge at top speed as the zombies march towards me. I smash—through the horde. My car spins out of control, and I try to gain control of the car while zombie filth is all over the window, and zombies are on the car. The windshield cracks and all I can hear is the aggressive growling of the zombies.

  The car continues to spin out of control, and I have no idea where the car is going. I’m in the dark, and the car suddenly slows down, so I press on the gas pedal to start doing donuts, and the car quickly spins and smashes dozens of zombies. I try the windshield wiper, but it doesn’t work, though I still have some visibility, and I manage to gain control of the car.

  Some of the zombies have detached legs and arms. I stop the car, and I put the car in reverse, but I’m not leaving since I want to bring on the heat. I stay in reverse until I’m clear of the zombies, and I begin to push towards the horde at top velocity.

  I crash—through the horde, and I lose control of the car. The car spins out of control, and I manage to gain control of the car. I’ve created an unbelievable huge mess. I continue down the road at top speed. The horde is far away from me, and I feel great! That was risky business, but I just had to blow off some steam.

  Chapter 8

  The church was a foul experience. After a while of driving, I finally make it back home, and I’m so exhausted that I could sleep forever. I pass out on my couch. It’s been a few days since the incident at the church. I don’t sleep well since I have aftershocks from being taken captive in the church. I suffer bad dreams, and they will likely occupy me for a while as I recuperate, so I will stay home and regain my mental wellness. I feel degraded, but the old man is dead. The past still haunts my mind.

  The nights are long, and I spend the nights drinking whiskey to help the depression go away. There is enough liquor in the house to last me a while. I’m drinking heavily tonight since I have nothing better to do.

  I’m so hammered, and I try to sing to keep myself entertained. I don’t know what else to do with myself so I will have to go with the flow. I think I’m about to pass out. I need to nap for at least an hour. I will close my eyes now. I suddenly hear a racket outside my home.

  I must have been out cold for at least a couple of hours. I have to get up and stretch. I’m wasted out of my mind. I haven't heard a noise outside since I moved into the house. I take a peek through the window, and it looks like a zombie is eating its way through one of the dead bodies on the ground. It is devouring intestines and organs like crazy, and I feel like puking. I don’t want zombies scavenging near my home.

  Zombies are dirty and probably full of diseases. I want my neighborhood to be free of zombies. I will go to sleep and hope that the zombie leaves before the morning arrives. I don’t want to draw any attention to my house. I simply want to be invisible. I don’t know how many more zombies are out there. I prepare for sleep and close my eyes.

  The next day arrives; I look outside, and there are no zombies in the area. I will spend the day organizing my food supply and weapons. I could spend the day pleasuring myself. That sounds like a plan for sure. First, I will take care of business before pleasure. The day has gone by faster than I expected. I guess time can fly when you keep yourself busy. The night is here, and it is silent night. The only thing I can hear is my own breathing as I sit on the couch with a couple of candles illuminating the room. I have just enough light in the room that I can’t attract outside attention. I wouldn’t want thousands of zombies scratching at my door.

  It is another long night, and I have a bottle of whiskey with me as I relax on the couch. I’m smashed out of my mind, and I feel like vomiting. I hear a noise coming from the outside of my house. I stagger to take a look outside. A zombie is scavenging the area once more. It looks like that same stupid zombie from the other night. It must just come out at dark around here. I wonder where zombies hide during the daytime. This zombie is pissing me off, and I won’t be able to sleep with this fool around my home. I need to stand up to zombies. I slap my own face a couple of times to help psych myself up. I need to sober up fast, but there is not a lot I can do about that. I need to get into attack mode, so I slap my face again. I grab my rifle, the bottle of whiskey, and I open the front door. Being wasted makes me want to do strange things. I know zombies don't talk, but I'm so pissed off that I just want to express what I'm feeling. I just want to let it know how sick I am of zombies. I should tell it how much I hate it, before I blast it to bits. I slowly take several steps and approach it.

  “Hey! Yes, you! I’m sick of seeing your kind! You're truly disgusting! Go find another area to spread your filth!”

  I would usually pass out from drinking so much, but I’ve gotten used to all the late-night drinking sessions. I take one last chug out of the whiskey bottle, and I throw the bottle at the zombie. The bottle shatters on the ground beside the zombie. The zombie suddenly stops and stands up. It looks around and slowly turns in my direction. It looks right at me. I giggle at it.

  There’s something different about this zombie. It doesn’t appear as grotesque as the other zombies. It's such an unusual thing. It’s kind of handsome for a young dead guy. It’s really tall and athletic as a quarterback. Its hair is dark and short. Its eyes are sky blue, with traces of blood red. It wears dirty pants, steel toe shoes, and a torn long sleeve shirt. It has a cool tattoo on its left hand. The tattoo is still visible considering the discoloration of its dead skin. It has several ear piercings on one ear. What the heck am I thinking? Drinking is really screwing with my head. I must be going crazy again. It’s a zombie!

  I’m wasted, and I think that I’m seeing things. I need to wake up right now. I take a deep breath. The zombie has all kinds of cuts on the face. It has a small chunk of skin torn from its neck. I’m not sure why the dead walk the earth, but I have theories. This was such a bad idea. I always seem to pick the wrong nights to get hammered.

  It growls and approaches me with its arms raised. I raise my rifle, and I’m ready to shoot it in the head, but my rifle jams! The zombie doesn’t run, but it walks very fast. I walk backwards, and I quickly make my way to the front door. I’m nauseous, and I feel my legs wobble. I trip and fall, hitting the ground hard. My rifle flies—out of my hands! I stand up and quickly limp to the front door. I manage to get inside my house, but the zombie catches up to the front door. I try to push the front door closed, but the zombie is too strong. The zombie shoves the front door open, and I fall to the floor! It growls at me, and it grabs me while I’m on the floor!

  “Get your creepy hands off me!”

  I try to hold it back with both arms, but it tries to take a bite out of my neck! It opens its slimy mouth and moves closer! I can’t hold it back any longer since it’s too strong for me! I scream at the top of my lungs as it makes its way to my neck with its slimy mouth open!

  The zombie licks the side of my face, and I can’t force it off me! I try to catch my breath, and I have a moment of relief since I realize that the zombie is not trying to kill me. It seems to enjoy the taste of my skin, but it has no intention of eating my flesh or drinking my blood, and the zombie feels warm. It finally gets off of me, stands up, looks down at me, and groans. I wipe the filth off my face, and it truly smells like crap. I think I’ve encountered a retarded zombie! Holy shit, right?

  I stand up, slowly, and my ankle hurts badly! I point outside to show it that there’s plenty of dead flesh for it to eat, but it looks back at me with an evil smile. It comes t
owards me again, but I began backing slowly away, and it probably won't kill me since it would have killed me by now. It backs me into a corner, yet I won’t try to stop it because I don’t want to get it mad. I just want to know what it wants.

  This zombie must have feelings. It hisses at me, grabs me, forces me to face the wall, and it leans on me from behind, and

  I’m afraid to turn around and face it. I take deep breaths to try to calm down. This zombie can think for itself, but this whole thing is going way too far. I can’t believe what is happening. I must be dreaming right now. This is so crazy. We do the unthinkable! I continue to try to calm myself down, but it’s not easy to calm down.

  I’ve never been used this good before, and I love this unusual experience. As long as I don`t have to look at it in the face, it’s all good. It’s fast for a dead guy, and it has a lot of energy. I turn to face it, and the dead guy looks at me with a nasty smile as it comes closer to me. I don't bother to resist its advances as it comes closer to my face, and I notice how foul its mouth is. This is a huge turn off. The dead guy has extremely bad hygiene, but it’s not like a dentist can do anything. Its breath is exceptionally foul, and it smells like someone shit in its mouth!

  The dead guy’s mouth is crusty with a couple of boils and cuts around it. It opens its mouth, as if it wants to kiss me.

  The inside of its mouth looks rotten. The inside of its mouth looks blue, black, and slimy. It puts its face close to mine, and it groans as it comes closer to my lips. Its lips touch mine, and I move aside to vomit! The vomit rushes out of my mouth, and I get chunks of vomit in my nose. I continue to vomit, and I seriously feel like shit. The dead guy makes its way to where I puked, and it has the nerve to pick up my thick yellow vomit. The dead guy starts to eat—my puke! I go to another corner and start to vomit again! This is truly sickening. I’m furious at the dead guy!

  “No! No! No! That’s not food! Stop that! You’re disgusting! Stop it!”

  What the heck am I thinking? I’m arguing with a dead guy! I’m tired of calling it a dead guy. Hours have passed by since my encounter with this dead guy. It stands above me as I sit on the couch. I’m baffled by my experience. The dead guy is lucky that I’m wasted since I don’t know how I would have reacted if I were sober. It took advantage of me while I was under the influence, and I’m still processing everything that happened. I think I’m done with drinking for a while. I don’t even know how to classify this dead guy.

  The dead guy is some sort of being. I’m not sure if it really is a zombie. Zombies don’t do the things it does. The dead guy looks similar to a zombie, but I don’t want to call the dead guy a zombie. I wonder if the sunlight will hurt the dead guy. I think the dead guy is human enough that the dead guy deserves a name. I will start off by acknowledging the dead guy as a person. I wonder what I should name him.

  There are many names that I can think of. The dead guy is dozens of levels up from the average zombie. It seems to have some personality. I take a deep breath. He is clever. Some things are still functioning inside him. He might still be in the process of slowly becoming a full-blown zombie. It shouldn’t be hard to come up with a name for him.

  “You certainly know how to please a girl. Obviously, you don’t speak. Well, what’s your name? Can you at least spell it out for me? No, I guess you can’t. You need a name. I’m not sure what to call you. Don’t worry, I will think of something. I don’t see your I.D. with you. Your pockets are all empty. Well, you seem pretty normal for a dead guy. It’s true. Compared to some people I knew, you seem normal to me. Do you know what normal means? That’s it! I know what I should call you. I’m going to call you Norman.”

  Norman looks at me and groans. He stinks like ass. I should try to wash him up. I wonder if that will help. I should find a fresh scented body spray for Norman.

  “I know you understand me in there. Why else would you do me? You seemed to enjoy it. What is up with that evil smile of yours? It’s kind of creepy.”

  He gets closer to me, and he’s trying to kiss me, but he’s a little too aggressive. I demand him to stop, but he overpowers me.

  He opens his mouth, and his tongue looks like frog skin. He forces his mouth on mine, and I have no choice, but to go along with it. Who knows what will happen if I try to stop Norman because he’s obviously a total freak. Being kissed by Norman is everyone's worst nightmare. I love doing the unthinkable with him, but kissing him is another story. I try not to vomit. I show Norman to the couch. I try to get him to sit down on the couch, so I take his hand and bring him down with me. It's certainly not an easy task. He is about to sit, but then moves back up. He sits down with me after a few tries.

  He looks at me and growls. I wonder what will happen next. I think he's just phenomenal. There’s no way he’s going to eat me. We seem to have an instant connection. The chemistry is powerful, and I want to keep Norman safe. I’ve never encountered anything like Norman. I consider him a true friend. I want Norman to be my partner in crime. In the new world, pickings are slim. I wonder how often he needs to eat. I’m sure he can survive a while without feasting on people. It’s very late, and I’m exhausted. Norman probably doesn’t need to catch some Z's. The first night together should be a learning experience. Tomorrow is going to be a really long day. I should sleep and get my strength back. I rest on the couch.

  Norman stands next to me while I’m on the couch. He starts hissing and growling. I tell him to shut up, and I tell him that I’m not dead. I explain to him that I need to rest as he stands above me. He is like a bodyguard. I hope he stays silent because I want to be able to finally get some sleep. I finally close my eyes, but Norman continues to rumble, and he just seems to annoy me when I shut my eyes. I beg Norman to shut the heck up, and he seems to understand me. I finally get Norman to shut up, so I can finally sleep in peace.

  Chapter 9

  It’s the next morning, and it’s storming outside. Norman is still standing above me. I absolutely love the sight of him. He's like my guardian angel. He doesn’t budge as he stares at me and groans like a dog. I get up and find something to eat. I think I will have a can of peaches for breakfast. I offer Norman some, but he won’t take it, and he just looks at me funny. I guess Norman just likes to consume human flesh. Norman is a carnivore. I open the front door to get some air, and I notice some dead bodies on the street that Norman might want. I show Norman the dead bodies.

  “Look at all the dead bodies, Norman. Look at all that flesh for you. There’s a bunch of yummy jerky out there. They are entirely for you, Norman. It’s breakfast time, Norman. You need to eat something, sweetheart. I bet you want to sink your teeth into all of that yummy looking flesh. Aren’t you hungry?”

  Norman growls and he won’t budge. Norman must want some fresh meat to eat. He doesn`t seem to want the dead bodies that are outside. It’s likely because they are already very chewed up. Even Norman seems to have some standards. If he wants fresh meat, then I will have to help him with that. I will have to go hunting for animals.

  I wonder if animals will satisfy his hunger. I wonder if Norman prefers raw human flesh. I can’t exactly run around killing innocent people for Norman. That's just plain crazy. I need a very good reason to start killing people so that Norman can eat like a king. I’m still not sure what he actually desires. Norman starts walking around the house as I sit in the living room. He has nothing better to do with himself.

  An hour of sitting around feels like forever. There is not much to do in the new world. I can hear the noise coming from outside. I look through my window. I see a couple of boys outside. They seem like a pair of goons.

  They possess long hair, and they wear caps put on backwards. They both carry baseball bats and they seem like bad news. They are checking out the dead bodies near my house. They stand around and seem interested in the houses around them. They seem to have a sudden interest in my house as they talk to each other. I know that they will try to break in. They continue to talk and point around at the othe
r houses.

  They begin to make their way to my house so I should greet them instead of getting into a hostile situation. I open the front door for them, and I make sure the door is open slightly so that we’re able to speak to each other. They’re shocked to see me. I notice the resemblance of the two boys.

  “You two guys seem like you’re a long way from home. Are you staying in one of the houses around here?”

  “Holy smokes! How long have you been living around here? I’m Stew, by the way, and this is my brother Ken. The world can’t get any worse than this. We’ve been exploring the area for survivors. We heard different stories about what’s going on, and we don’t know what to think. The corpses that are walking around the city are famished. Our sister was killed by one of the dead. They tore her body up good. We were definitely outnumbered. There was not much we could do about that. They all deserve death.”

  If these two guys see Norman, it will be over for Norman. They might even kill me for having him. I have to get rid of these two before it’s too late. Norman doesn’t stand a chance. He’s helpless without my protection.

  “Nice to meet you guys. I’m Alice. I’m sorry to hear about your sister. I have so many theories about the world. I'm not actually sure why this is happening. I’m staying in this house for now. You should both find a home and stay safe. It's not very pleasant to be outside. I suggest you find a place to stay before it gets dark. Well, I should probably get going.”

  I attempt to close the door, but Stew stops me with his baseball bat. He seriously pisses me off. He holds the door open.