Decay: A Zombie Story

by Dumas, Joseph

  All of a sudden, I ran right into a sick person. We fell to the ground and she rolled on top of me.

  “Oh gosh,” I said, “I’m so sorry.”

  She made a gurgling sound, opened her mouth wide, and leaned forward to bite my neck. I wasn’t sure what her intentions were, but I didn’t want to find out, so I pushed her off me. Then, I got to my feet as she did the same.

  “Take it easy,” I said.

  She looked at me with vacant eyes and curled her discolored lips over her teeth, moaning at me.

  Then, a loud bang came from behind me and her head exploded! I nearly fell at the sound of the shot. I looked behind me and saw an Indian (from India not the other kind) man in a gas station uniform holding a shotgun.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get inside before more show up!”

  I followed the man into the gas station, shocked at what I had just witnessed.

  This man had just blown someone’s head clean off. I was in shock, but the gravity of the situation was slowly sinking in as I followed him without question.

  “Get away from the door,” he said and locked it behind us.

  I moved to the back of the store. He approached me, holding the shotgun in one hand and looking for a handshake with the other, “I’m Hamin,” he said.

  Reluctantly, I shook his hand, “Joey. Nice to meet you.”

  He nodded and put the gun down. Most of the lights were off in the store and he simply sat down behind the counter. “Don’t move around too much,” he said.

  I nodded. “I have to get to Georgio’s Pizzeria.”

  “If you’re hungry, help yourself,” he smirked.

  “No, no, I have to find someone.”

  “Sorry, friend, you’re on your own there.”

  “What’s going on exactly? Why did you shoot that girl? I know she was sick, but why?”

  “They go down with headshots,” he said.

  I continued to listen, even though I was confused as hell.

  Hamin didn’t tell me much. He just explained what he knew; the infection spreads through the blood—bites or scratches, and the only way to take down an infected person was to destroy the brain. I felt like I was taking part in some sort of new reality TV show—none of it seemed like it could be real.

  He told me I should at least wait until morning to head out. That he would give me a car to use from his garage. So I waited with him. We didn’t talk much after that. We each spent some time reading magazines and keeping an eye on what was happening outside.

  He had a radio so we listed to that too. People stumbled by in groups of three or four for the most part. Every now and then, we noticed one person alone coming down the street. One man came into the gas station parking lot and walked over the bell cord.

  When the bell went off, the man went crazy. He started looking around and kind of shouting to himself. In his confusion, he stepped on the bell two more times. It was almost funny to see him so confused, but it was also tough to watch. I couldn’t comprehend a human acting so primitively.

  “I might have to get rid of him,” Hamin said. “Before he brings more here.”

  Ding. Ding.

  The confused man stepped on the bell a couple more times.

  “Okay, stay by the door,” Hamin ordered before he went outside.

  I held the door closed as he slowly approached the man outside. He looked back at me and then raised his shotgun. Quickly and swiftly, he pulled the trigger and blasted a hole through the diseased man’s skull. The corpse fell to the ground.

  Ding.

  It landed directly on the cord. Hamin inspected the corpse for a moment before turning back to me. As he turned around, he spotted three other infected people moving toward him.

  “Shit, they see me,” he said.

  I opened the door a crack and yelled, “Get back in here!”

  “No, they’ll only pile up against the door,” he said.

  “Shit,” I said as I closed the door.

  Hamin moved towards them at an awkward angle. After a moment, I realized he was drawing them away from the gas pumps. Given our current predicament, I could understand him not wanting to deal with a massive explosion.

  The number of infected grew by a few more as a handful of them continued coming into the gas station’s parking lot. I couldn’t make out exactly what Hamin was saying, but I thought I heard him say something along the lines of, “I should’ve brought more shells!”

  I glanced around to see if there was a box of shells somewhere, but I didn’t see any. So I stayed at the door, not knowing what else to do.

  Hamin continued to move swiftly around the gas pumps, baiting the people and getting them to go where he wanted. He was good at it, and it made me wonder a little bit about his past.

  Soon, he was able to get them together and he took his first shot at the group. He shot two of them in the head and both bodies fell to the ground, limp. Needless to say, I was impressed.

  Then he started to run back to me. He stopped by the air pump off to the side and pulled a couple of shells from his pocket and reloaded the shotgun. I turned away and watched as four more infected moved past the pumps, closer to Hamin and me.

  His shotgun went off again and it startled me. I turned back to him and saw him stumbling backwards as another sick person he hadn’t seen moved toward him. This one must’ve snuck up on Hamin.

  He fired a shot and hit the infected man right between the eyes.

  “Shit!” he yelled as he turned back toward me. His arm was bleeding and it appeared he’d been bitten or scratched. He ran to the door and tossed the shotgun on the ground. I went to open the door but he said, “I’m out of shells and I’m bit. Keep it shut until they’re gone!”

  He ran past the door and starting shouting to the infected people. “Hey! Come on! Over here, I’ve got something for you! It’s dinner time!”

  I looked on in amazement as he ran into the road and stood there. Most of the infected followed him like fish after a worm. But two others noticed me at the door. They immediately were fixated on me.

  I looked at the shotgun on the ground outside and decided I couldn’t get it in time, so I quickly locked the door and ran behind the counter to stay out of sight.

  I heard Hamin scream, and when I peeked outside, I saw he hadn’t escaped his pursuers. They had surrounded him and closed the circle.

  The two infected were pounding on the door while the rest tore Hamin apart. There was barely anything left in the road by the time they were through.

  After they were done feasting, they headed my way. They couldn’t see me in the dark behind the counter, but I could see them. They were hungry and covered in blood. Pounding on the door and the building, there was nothing I could do but wait. I didn’t know if the back exit was accessible, and I was so scared I didn’t consider it an option.

  I was trapped for the time being. So I sat and I waited.

  Days turned into weeks as I hunkered down in the gas station, feeding on snack foods: Trail mix, candy, chips, power bars, sodas, sports drinks and bottled waters. The damn radio broke and I couldn’t get it to work.

  I read every magazine available and even considered scratching the scratch tickets for the fun of it.

  I tried to remain hidden and not call attention to myself. Tara crossed my mind from time to time. I dreaded the thought of her out there, in the street, as one of those things.

  Then, one day some people showed up. I watched them get gas. One of them tried to open the door and was apparently so desperate that he smashed the glass to get in. When they left, I followed them.

  FROM THE FILES OF DOCTOR JOANNE SANDERS

  On the night of June thirteenth, Massachusetts General Hospital was forced to lock their doors, turning away nearly one hundred people seeking medical assistance. At this point in time, we were overrun with Arthriphagy carriers. More than fifty percent of the hospital grounds had been designated as quarantine zones.

  By the time this happened
, our numbers had increased by over a hundred. Seventy-seven patients had succumbed to the virus. During treatment, thirty members of our staff were also infected and since have been quarantined. Prior to these zones being established, three patients had to be euthanized. We remain now with a hundred and four ‘A.Phagy’ carriers locked in the quarantined areas.

  Seventeen other staff members have remained in the hospital, running tests and/or simply waiting it out. I’ve taken fifty-two blood samples from people at different stages of infection. These samples are to be replicated and further testing will be done. So far, I’ve confirmed that all fifty-two samples have tested positive for Arthriphagy.

  Helicopters had been called for pick-up of essential staff members. We were told that we’d be going to New Hampshire and relocated to a safe zone there. When the helicopters arrived and each picked up eight staff members, I was given a message to wait on the roof with my samples and any Arthriphagy related research I’d obtained.

  Moments later, another helicopter—this one entirely black—landed. A man dressed in a suit came out to greet me. He told me that we’d be going to the Center for Disease Control (CDC) in Atlanta, Georgia.

  I boarded the transport and was introduced to Dr. Phillip Woodson, head of the Arthriphagy Research Team (ART).

  He informed me that my samples and work thus far showed great potential and that I’d be leading a division of ART at the CDC.

  Upon arrival to the CDC, I was assigned to a branch of the building and introduced to a dozen lab technicians who were assigned with the task of replicating all fifty-two samples.

  Research for a cure and treatment of the Arthriphagy virus is set to begin immediately.

  Dr. J. Sanders

  NEW HORROR FICTION FROM OPEN CASKET PRESS!

  HEADSHOTS ONLY: A ZOMBIE ANTHOLOGY

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  The walking dead cannot be stopped!

  They never tire, never give up, and will come for you again and again!

  Only one thing can put them down for good!

  Grab your gun, take aim, and make sure it’s a head shot!

  One to the brain pan is the only way to save yourself from certain death!

  So keep your weapon loaded, stay sharp, and remember…Headshots Only!

  HOLLOW POINT: A ZOMBIE NOVEL

  By Mark Christopher

  Something horrible is happening in the small, bayou town of Cypress Pass. The dead are walking.

  Caught in the middle of the undead uprising is Sheriff John Boudreaux; a retired Army Ranger, who still struggles daily with the emotional and physical pain of his time in the Iraq war.

  Now he finds himself fighting an enemy that cannot be stopped, an enemy that shows no fear and wants nothing more than to eat his flesh. He’s tasked with a mission that will define his life. He must save his friends and fight off the living dead that are overrunning his town. But how do you kill what is already dead?

  CREATURE FEATURE: A MONSTER ANTHOLOGY

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  Giant squirrels, massive zombies, killer trees and marauding severed heads are just a few of the twisted tales of creatures you will find inside this anthology.

  So let your imagination free and embrace what isn’t real.

  For perhaps monsters are real, and it is you that does not truly exist.

  HORROR CARNIVAL

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  Step right up, folks, the Horror Carnival is about to begin!

  We have a great show in store for you this evening.

  Ghouls, monsters, zombies, vampires and serial killers, all rolled up into one massive show. Tales that will leave you wanting more yet leave you oh so fulfilled.

  The rides are cheap, the stories tall, so grab some cotton candy and popcorn and enjoy yourself. Tickets are five for a dollar!

  But please read all disclaimers before entering the fairgrounds.

  Horror Carnival is not responsible for any dismemberment or loss of organs during your visit, nor are we liable if any family member is slain while participating in one of the attractions.

  So come on in…if you dare!

  ZOMBIE BUFFET: AN UNDEAD ANTHOLOGY

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  If you’re hungry for zombie stories, look no further than this anthology.

  There’s enough rotting meat to satisfy even the most discerning connoisseur, and our all-you-can-eat buffet is sure to please.

  Rotting intestines, severed heads and exploding spleens are just some of the courses waiting for you within this book of undead mastication.

  So grab a knife and fork, slap on a napkin, ‘cause you’re gonna get dirty, and prepare yourself for the Zombie Buffet.

  A zombie feast of epic proportions.

  DEAD CHRISTMAS: A ZOMBIE ANTHOLOGY

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  Share the most special time of the year with someone you love, or better yet, with an animated corpse!

  The living dead love Christmas. Whether they’re hanging their entrails like garland, using severed heads like stockings, or hanging body parts like ornaments, even zombies enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

  Santa Claus isn’t immune to the walking dead, either.

  Zombie elves, killer reindeer and undead hordes, all seek to share in the joy of the holiday . . . and tear Santa apart and feed on his flesh.

  So when you grab last year’s fruitcake to re-gift to Aunt Martha, just make sure to bring a shotgun, too. Because for all you know, your aunt has turned into an undead flesh-eater, and if the shotgun won’t kill her, the fruitcake most assuredly will.

  RATS

  By Anthony Giangregorio

  Killer black rats the size of dogs are roaming the streets and no one is aware of their existence.

  Wild dogs, the authorities warn. Stay indoors and all will be fine.

  Domenic Salvatore soon finds himself in the middle of a cover-up of epic proportions; where no one will believe the truth.

  And why would they? After all, he’s just a kid.

  What no one knows is that the rats have taken on a taste for human meat, a particular kind of meat actually…young flesh…the flesh of children.

  As the kids are hunted one by one, killed and dragged off into the night to be devoured, Domenic realizes that it’s only a matter of time before he’s next.

  Something evil stalks the town of Wakefield, Mass…and it’s hungry.

  BIGFOOT TALES

  Edited by Mark Christopher

  The elusive Bigfoot has been a mystery for years.

  Truth or hoax? No one knows for sure and perhaps never will.

  So does this creature of the forest truly exist? Is there really a missing link that ties together man with his ape ancestors?

  Or is it all simply a figment of the imagination.