The Zombie Playground

by Brian Rowe

  Brin turned to the boy and shook her head. “Now’s not the time to make a point, Tristan! Run! As fast as you can!”

  As the trio raced around the giant lake, they watched as at least a dozen more zombies swam out and started marching up the hill. They had their hands outstretched, their mouths wide open, their eyes bulging out of their slimy sockets. Every zombie was an icky melting yellow in appearance; even worse, they stunk like skunk road-kill.

  Brin couldn’t believe she was thinking it as she ran, but it wouldn’t leave her head. I might have taken a vampire home, but I’m not taking one of these things home!

  “Oh my God!” Anaya shouted, dumping her golf bag on the ground but keeping a tight grip on her three-iron. “There’s so many of them!”

  “We have to get to the others!” Brin screamed. “We have to worn them!”

  “But what about Colin? Is he OK?”

  “I don’t know!” Brin said, as she thought: I’m pretty sure he’s not.

  “How many are following us?” Anaya stopped and turned around just in time to see three zombies shoot out of the ground like cork blasts propel off a bottle of champagne. She screamed and fell on her back. She jerked her head forward to see not just a dozen, but fifty zombies marching her way.

  “OH MY GOD!” Anaya screamed.

  “Get up!” Brin shouted, pulling Anaya back up to her feet. “Why the hell are you stopping?”

  “Shut up, Brin! I’m so sick of you! Every time I’m with you I get attacked! By things that aren’t supposed to be real! I don’t want to ever see you again!”

  “Fine by me!”

  They raced past the seventh hole tee box and over to the sixth hole green. Tristan almost got hit with a golf ball as he stepped onto the green.

  “What the hell are you doing up there?” Martin shouted from the right side rough.

  Brin and Anaya jumped over a small sand trap in front of the green and started running onto the fairway. Paul and Ash were still fighting each other.

  “Don’t look at me, Paul! I’ve had enough!”

  “You want me to scare you again, huh? This time I’ll really suck the blood out of you, geek!”

  Paul kept rambling, but Ash diverted his attention to the end of the fairway, where Brin and Ash were running.

  “Brin?” Ash pushed past Paul and started running forward. “Oh God, what is it?”

  Brin finally let go of Anaya and sprinted toward Ash. “No! Turn around, Ash! The other way!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Ash!”

  Brin almost collided against the boy. She veered to her left and grabbed hold of Ash, pulling him back the opposite direction.

  “Hey!” Ash said. “Stop! Tell me what’s going on!”

  “No! We have to run!”

  “Brin! Stop!” Ash shook her away from him. “What the hell’s gotten into you!”

  “It’s zombies, Ash! Those creatures from Night of the Living Dead! They’re real!”

  He turned back toward Anaya and Tristan, who were running toward him and Paul. But he didn’t see any spooky members of the undead headed their way.

  “What are you talking about? I don’t see anything.”

  “Brin?” Paul said, stepping forward. He grabbed her arm and pulled her forehead against his. “Did you say you saw zombies?”

  “Yes! They’re coming! We have to go!”

  Martin, standing by the little Crispin in the deep rough, started laughing. “Zombies, huh? I don’t know what you kids are drinking these days, but I think I’ll keep playing, thank you very much—”

  Twenty zombies burst out of the ground, some from the fairway, some from the bunkers, and some from the rough. Two zombies latched onto Martin’s legs and pulled him toward them. He let out a girly scream as Crispin jumped back and started racing toward Brin and the others.

  Brin turned away from Martin just in time to miss seeing his intestines get ripped clean out of his body.

  “Oh my God,” Brin said. Tears welled up in her eyes as she started running again. “Oh my God, you guys! I can’t believe it!”

  “You can’t believe what?” Ash said, stunned, watching in both horror and total amazement as a trio of zombies started munching on Martin’s mucky insides.

  “I can’t believe it’s happening again!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Now there were six people running maniacally for their lives. It was Brin and Ash and Paul and Anaya and Tristan and Crispin, all racing at different speeds, as if the final prize could be earned not by the best golf score but by the person who could reach the clubhouse first.

  “Can they run?” Ash said.

  Brin didn’t answer. She almost tripped as her left foot struck a rock near the dirt path, but she managed not to fall.

  “Brin?” Ash said. “What’s our territory, here? Are we in Dawn of the Dead remake, or Dawn of the Dead original?”

  “What the hell are you asking me, Ash?”

  “I’m asking… can the zombies run, or are they walking?”

  Brin jerked her head around. The zombies were keeping up, but they definitely weren’t running. Some of the zombies were moving extremely slow, some even on one foot, but others were walking at a faster pace. None, however, was actually running.

  “Some are faster than others, but they’re walking,” Brin said. “If we keep at a good pace, they won’t be able to catch up to us.”

  “How many holes do we have left before we get to the clubhouse?”

  “Just five.”

  “Just five?”

  Brin pulled out in front of everybody, when she turned around to see that Anaya and Tristan were lagging behind. “Come on, guys! Hurry up! The zombies are gaining!”

  And they were. The last of the creatures shot out of the ground, and now they were forming into a giant clan, all with one mission: find and eat as much human flesh as possible. It wasn’t that much different than when the vampires had been chasing Ash’s Beetle and all the survivors inside of it, except those vamps were charging at lightning speed, while the zombies, thankfully, were a lot slower.

  But the worst that would ever happen with the vamps was that they’d suck your blood, Brin thought. At least they wouldn’t literally chew through skin! At least they wouldn’t be like that girl by the RV…

  Brin’s mind was racing faster than her feet. As she continued running down the fairway, she was taken back to the incident with the little blonde girl by the motorhome, the girl who took a chunk out of Lavender’s neck.

  Lavender turned into a zombie. It took forever because the girl only chewed out a little bit, but this proves it. That girl by the RV wasn’t a vampire at all; she was a freaking zombie!

  “Ash, go faster!” Brin shouted, but then she pulled back to make sure Anaya and Tristan weren’t falling too far behind.

  “Brin!” Anaya said. “Don’t slow down for us!”

  The zombies were coming closer and closer. Anaya was seconds away from being the main course at the Macabre Sunday feast.

  “Anaya! You have to hurry!”

  “I can’t! My legs… they’re giving out!”

  “Well… shit!” She didn’t want to say anything, but Brin knew it: there was little left she could do for Anaya. But she couldn’t give up. Brin ran up to Anaya and grabbed her hand, again. She continued to run, now dragging Anaya behind her.

  They made it to the sixth hole tee box, where the last remaining quartet, including Clyde, were standing.

  Brin turned back to Tristan, who was slowing down to a complete stop.

  “Tristan! What’s wrong?”

  “I’m out… I’m out of breath…”

  “Don’t stop!” Brin said. “Damn it! Don’t you dare stop, Tristan!”

  “I just needed to prove… that Percy was gone… that I didn’t imagine the whole thing… that I didn’t—”

  Tristan stopped rambling when a golf ball struck him in his forehead. Some drool seeped out onto his chin, then he fell do
wn to the fairway face first.

  “Noooo!” Brin shouted. “What the hell!”

  Brin leapt forward toward Tristan’s unconscious body. But it was too late. She watched in horror as a dozen zombies hovered over him, and as many of the creatures continued marching with varied amounts of frenzy toward Brin and Anaya, others stopped to enjoy the fresh cuts of meat on Tristan’s nubile body.

  “Brin! Is he dead?” Anaya’s jaw dropped as she turned to see the zombies mere yards behind them.

  “Yes! Damn it!” Brin wanted to collapse with grief—even though she didn’t know the kid, he was only a freshman and a total innocent. But Brin had to keep moving; she didn’t want to die. “And we’re gonna be dead too if you keep stopping. Move your fat ass, bitch!”

  “Hey! That’s the second time you’ve called me a bitch! Stop doing that!”

  “You’ve called me a bitch hundreds of times today!”

  “I get to call you a bitch, cuz you’re thin, cuz you’re pretty! But you can’t call me a bitch, you understand? Because I’m the less fortunate one! I’m the fat one who can’t run!”

  She hated being this mean, but much to Brin’s surprise, her little trick was working. The more she talked down to Anaya, the faster the big girl would run. She didn’t know why, but it seemed the angrier Anaya became, the less likely it was for her to crumble before the herd of carnivorous zombies.

  “Ever thought about losing any weight, Anaya? You know… like maybe 500 pounds or so?”

  “I’m losing pounds every day, you ass!” Anaya shouted. “Every day I spend with you I’m losing weight because when I’m with you, I run! I hate it, you understand me? I freaking hate running!”

  She hated running, but she was moving faster than Brin had ever seen Anaya move in her life. She tore through a pair of trees past the tee box and started racing toward the fifth hole. Brin watched as Crispin grabbed his father’s hand, and then saw Clyde’s expression briefly as he turned. The man didn’t look scared or shocked; the look on his face suggested he had known this was going to happen.

  What the hell didn’t that asshole tell us?

  “This way!” Clyde shouted. “Everyone, follow me!”

  Brin didn’t care to follow the man who had invited them to this hellish playground in the first place, but she decided she didn’t have a choice. She knew he was the most familiar with the course grounds, that he would be the one to offer the best route out of harm’s way.

  “Anaya, come on!” Brin said.

  But Anaya didn’t move toward Clyde and Crispin; she veered in the complete opposite direction. “No,” she said.

  “What? What do you mean, no?”

  “I’m gonna try to sneak into the cemetery.”

  “The cemetery? Where there’s possibly more zombies? How stupid are you? We need to follow Clyde!”

  But Anaya was stubborn; she wouldn’t listen to Brin. While Ash and Paul followed close behind the Cleavers, Anaya started running down the left hand side of the fourth hole and over to the imposing black fence that blocked the cemetery from the golf course.

  “Anaya! Stop! You can’t get in that way!”

  Brin watched as Anaya ran alongside the fence, trying to find an opening to wedge herself through. Brin knew she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t let Anaya die.

  “Anaya!” She took a loud, deep breath. “Goddamn you…”

  Three zombies narrowed in on Brin, but she started sprinting again, just in time; not even she knew that the creatures had come so close to making a meal out of her. She jumped over a bunker and ran around another small lake. Anaya was frantically trying to find a way through the fence.

  Brin grabbed her. “Come on! This isn’t the way!”

  “I need to get out of here,” Anaya said, tossing her three-iron on the ground and starting to cry. “I need to get off this golf course!”

  Brin was out of options; she dug her sharp fingernails into Anaya’s fleshy arms and watched, delightedly, as Anaya screamed loud enough to make a hole in the sky. Brin thought about slapping the girl, too, but such was unnecessary. She had the girl’s attention now.

  “Damn it, Anaya! Snap out of it! We’re gonna die out here if you keep panicking! Clearly we can’t get to the cemetery from here, so we have to keep running toward the clubhouse!”

  Anaya finally nodded. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “They—all the ones with half a brain—were following Clyde!” Brin peered forward. A bed of trees surrounded Brin and Anaya, so they couldn’t see the others in the distance. She also couldn’t see any of the zombies headed their way.

  “We need to—”

  “Wait,” Brin said, smashing her palm against Anaya’s mouth. “Hold on a second.”

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  They backed up against the black iron fence and peered out at the lake, the trees, the bunkers, the green. They could hear screaming in the distance, but nothing close by. It seemed certain; the zombies had left them alone.

  “I don’t believe it,” Brin whispered.

  “What?”

  “The zombies. They didn’t follow us.”

  Anaya wiped tears from her eyes. “What are we gonna do? How are we gonna get out of here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We don’t have Ash to save the day this time,” Anaya said. “We don’t have anybody. Worst of all, we don’t have a vehicle!”

  Brin turned to her left to see a square one-story building running alongside the fourth hole fairway. She had glanced at it nonchalantly earlier, but now it had her full attention.

  “Anaya!”

  “What?”

  “See that building over there?” Brin pointed. “Let’s stay near the fence and work our way toward it. Maybe it can provide shelter.”

  “Or maybe it will house more of those… those things.”

  “I don’t know,” Brin said. “But we can’t just stand out in the open like this! It’s too dangerous. What are we supposed to do if one of those things sees us and tries to—”

  Brin and Anaya screamed in unison as two zombies leapt out from behind the nearest tree and latched onto both of their golf shirts.

  “Nooooo!” Brin screamed as one of the zombies pulled her down to the ground and lunged his slimy yellow hand at her forehead.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brin shoved her hands against the zombie’s face, but the creature was stronger than he let on. He pushed himself onto her and started running his slimy orange tongue against her nose and cheeks.

  Oh my God, Brin thought. Do I really have to do this again?

  She thought about ripping the tongue out of the abhorrent, whiny, foul-smelling zombie, but instead she pushed his face away from hers with her left hand and grabbed for the nearby object with her right. Brin glanced at Anaya. Another zombie was pinning her down—a tall, black mess of a creature who looked like he could eat the big girl with one giant bite.

  Brin turned her head. She felt the zombie’s tongue entering her ear, and she tried not to scream. She felt the zombie’s warm breath against her neck. She tried to kick him away, but he wasn’t budging. Any second, he’d be taking a chunk out of her flesh. Brin reached with all her might. She still couldn’t grab the object.

  “Goddammit!” Brin shouted. “Come on!”

  She tried again. Still nothing. The zombie started giggling as his cracked green-yellow lips brushed up against Brin’s neck.

  “Anaya! Quick! Kick me the club!”

  “What?”

  “The three-iron! Do it now!”

  Anaya gave the zombie above her a swift punch to the face, then scooted herself down just enough so she could kick the iron to Brin.

  Finally Brin had the golf club—in this case, a stealthy weapon—in her hand.

  She brought her head as far back against the ground as she could go and pushed the zombie up high with her knee, just high enough so she could get a proper strike.

  “You’re rea
lly… ruining… my day!” Brin shouted as she gripped the club tight and struck the zombie hard across the face.

  Dazed, but not wounded, the zombie rolled over on his side and immediately jumped back up to his feet. He rushed up to Brin but she saw him coming; she kneeled down and clubbed the creature against both his legs. He fell down again, and this time, Brin wouldn’t let him get back up. She shoved her foot down against his back and started clobbering the club against the zombie’s head. She screamed with every loud angry hit. The fifth hit finally broke the skin. The eighth hit exploded brains all over Brin’s golf shirt.

  “Brin! Help me!” Anaya shouted near the fence. “I can’t get him off!”

  Brin stepped off her zombie. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t just dead; he was deader than dead.

  One down.

  She rushed over to Anaya and started striking her much taller zombie against his back. It didn’t seem to do much damage, but Anaya was able to roll out from under him.

  The zombie turned and looked up at Brin with a wide, ghoulish grin. His skin was charcoal black, with large brown circles around his frightening eyes. He started sitting up, ready to take a chunk out of Brin’s leg, but she didn’t let him get close.

  She plunged the head of the three-iron right into his mouth and out the back of his neck. The zombie showed surprise, and then no sign of life, as Brin pulled the club back through his head.

  Anaya pulled herself up to her feet and looked down at the gruesome mess. A gooey mixture of blood, brains, and snot dangled from the head of Anaya’s golf club.

  “That’s disgusting,” Anaya said.

  “Tell me about it,” Brin said. “At least… we’re not dead.”

  “There’s always that.”

  “Come on,” Brin said, pointing toward the shelter in the distance. “Let’s find a place to hide.”

  Brin grabbed Anaya’s hand and started moving toward the building, when the other zombie, presumed dead, leapt to his feet and snarled at the two girls. Brain matter ran down his neck like a chunky banana smoothie, but no matter: the ferocious creature was somehow still alive!