“She never lifted a finger for anybody but herself,” said a third.
“Should we finish her off?” asked a fourth.
“I got a better idea,” said the first. He pulled a wicked looking blade from its sheath and hacked off the arms and legs, finishing just as the girl began to twitch and open her undead eyes.
“Now she can be just as useless in undeath as she was in life,” the second man said.
From then on, there would be no question that the formerly self-centered brat would never have to lift a finger for anybody.
15
Timmy and Ginny
Based on:
Hänsel und Gretel
At the edge of a rundown suburb there lived a logger who was unemployed because environmentalists were fighting to protect the Spotted Owl. The logger lived with his wife and two children. The little boy’s name was Timmy, and the little girl’s name was Ginny. There was never much to eat in the house, especially at the end of the month when the foodstamp card was wiped out.
Then, one afternoon, a man on the news warned people to stay indoors because crazy people were attacking other folks in the street. A later update claimed that the crazy people were biting their victims. The report after that said that it might be “formerly dead people rising and attacking the living.” The next day, nobody was on the television saying anything. All that remained was a screen that said to “Please Stand By!”
That night, the logger lay in bed thinking, tossing and turning with worry. All at once he sighed to his wife, “What’s to become of us? How will we feed our children when we barely have enough for ourselves? It isn’t safe to venture into the cities. Besides, the looters probably got all the good stuff by now.”
“Listen to me, Harold,” the woman snapped. “Tomorrow at daybreak we’ll take the children across the fields and into the woods. We’ll lead them to the thickest part of the forest, make a fire for them, and give them each a sandwich. Then we’ll leave them and make our way home again, and that way, we’ll be rid of them.”
“Are you nuts, Trina?” the man asked his wife. “No way am I dumping my kids in the middle of the woods. Zombies will find them and tear them to pieces.”
“You idiot!” Trina said. “Then all four of us will starve. You might as well make a giant tombstone for out in the front yard.” The woman gave her husband no peace until he finally agreed.
“But I still feel terrible about the poor children,” he whispered after his wife finally dozed off and began snoring beside him.
The children were too hungry to sleep, and besides, their home had walls so thin you could hear a fly walking on the other side. Neadless to say, they heard the entire conversation between their dad and stepmother.
“Oh, Timmy,” Ginny wept, “we’re so hosed.”
“Hush, Ginny,” Timmy said. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”
Once he heard both parents snoring he got up, put on his little jacket, opened the bottom half of the Dutch-door and crept outside. The moon was shining bright, and the pebbles around the house glittered like silver coins. In the silvery light he could see and hear the occasional zombie wandering past. Careful not to make a sound that might draw their attention, Timmy crouched down and stuffed his pockets full of the little stones. Then, he slipped back inside without a peep.
“Don’t worry, Ginny,” Timmy said as he climbed up into his bunk. “Just get some sleep. God won’t forsake us.” And with that, he drifted off.
At daybreak, before the sun had risen, the stepmother barged in and woke the children. “Get up you lazybones. We’re going to the forest for firewood and maybe we’ll find something edible. We need to move now so those damn zombies don’t see us.” She fished around in her pocket and produced two squished sandwiches stuffed into baggies. “This is your only meal for the day so I wouldn’t eat it too soon because that’s it, and once it’s gone…you’re done.”
Ginny pocketed both sandwiches because Timmy’s pockets were full of pebbles. Then they all started out for the forest together. When they had gone a little way, Timmy stopped and took a look back in the direction of the house, and every so often he did it again.
“Timmy,” Harold said, “why do you keep looking back and lagging behind? Wake up and get the lead out of your ass.”
“Well, Dad,” Timmy said, “I’m just keeping my eyes open to make sure zombies aren’t sneaking up or chasing us.”
“Idiot,” Trina scolded. “We’re being careful. And don’t you think your father and I are keeping our eyes peeled for zombies?”
But Timmy hadn’t been looking for zombies. Each time, he had taken a shiny pebble from his pocket and dropped it on the ground.
Once they’d travelled deep into the forest, the children’s father said, “Start gathering some wood so we can make a small fire. That way, you two can stay here and be warm while your stepmother and I can see what we can scavenge.”
Timmy and Ginny gathered brushwood until they had a little pile of it. The brushwood was kindled, and when the flames were just enough to give a little warmth, Trina said, “Now, children, lie down by the fire and rest. We’re going into the forest to cut wood and look for edible plants. When we’re done, we’ll come back and get you.”
“But what if a zombie comes?” Timmy asked, pretending he didn’t know what was really going on.
“What would zombies be doing out here in the middle of the woods?” the stepmother replied.
Timmy and Ginny sat by the fire, and at midday they both ate their sandwiches. They heard what sounded like the strokes of an ax and thought that just maybe their dad was nearby. Perhaps he wasn’t a complete jerk. But it wasn’t an ax, it was a tiny portable CD player. Their stepmother had burned a disc of chopping sounds and put the track on repeat. After just sitting around for so long, plus the fact that they’d been up so late last night with all the worrying, they became so tired that their eyes closed and they fell into a deep sleep. When at last they awoke, the fire had burned out and it was dark night.
“How will we ever find our way out of this forest?” Ginny asked as she began to cry.
“Just wait a little while,” Timmy said, comforting his sister. “As soon as the moon rises, we’ll find the way.”
And when the full moon had risen, Timmy took his sister by the hand and followed the pebbles, which glistened like newly minted silver pieces and showed them the way. They walked all night and only had to duck and hide from zombies a few times. They reached their father’s house just as day was breaking. Since it was all locked and boarded up, they had to knock to be let in. When their stepmother opened up the door and saw them, she was pissed.
“Rotten little brats!” she scolded. “Why did you sleep so long in the forest? We thought you’d never get home.” Of course neither child mentioned that they’d been told to wait until their father and stepmother came for them. And Trina would’ve been doubly pissed if she saw the smirk on her husband’s face.
As the zombie problem grew, it became more and more dangerous to scavenge for food. The family had cleared out all the now-vacant houses in the area, but food was growing ever more scarce. It got bad enough that they eventually relied on boiling and eating Harold’s toolbelt and work boots. It wasn’t long before the children overheard their stepmother working on the father again.
“Everything has been eaten up,” Trina griped. “We have a box of crackers and that can of garbanzo beans that people foolishly buy, thinking it will come in handy, but never does. When that’s gone, there will be no more. The children have to go. We’ll take them deeper into the forest, and this time they won’t find their way home; it’s our only hope.”
It would be better if I shared the last bite with my children, Harold thought as his wife continued to bitch, nag, and moan. And since he’d agreed to it, she knew that if she kept badgering him he would eventually give in.
But the children were awake. (Plus, the thin walls have already been documented.) They heard the entire conversation. When the
dual-toned sounds of snoring were vibrating on the night air, Timmy climbed out of bed again. He wanted to go out and gather pebbles, but there were too many zombies now for him to risk going out there by himself. Nowadays, whenever they left the house, somebody had to go out on the back balcony and draw any of the zombies in the area to them so that the others could duck out the front. He returned to his room and his sister’s crying.
“Don’t worry, Ginny,” Timmy whispered. “Just get some rest. God will watch over us.”
Early in the morning the stepmother woke the children. She gave them each two crackers and the same drawn-out speech about that being all they’d get. On their way to the forest, Timmy crumbled up his cracker in his pocket. From time to time he stopped and dropped a few crumbs on the ground.
“Timmy,” the children’s father hissed, trying to be careful not to speak loud enough so that the zombie nearby with its face buried in a mangy dog’s gut would notice them, “why are you always stopping and looking back? Keep moving or one of those things is gonna grab you and it’ll be all over but the crying.”
“I’m just keeping an eye on our rear,” Timmy said.
“Fool,” snapped the stepmother. “Falling behind like that is a sure way to get snatched by a zombie. Keep up or else.” But, little by little, Timmy managed to strew his cracker crumbs on the ground.
The children were led still deeper into the forest to a place they’d never been in all their lives. Again a big fire was made, and the stepmother said, “Just sit here, children. If you get tired, you can sleep awhile. You’re far enough into the woods where zombies are unlikely to be a problem. We’re going into the forest to cut some wood and search for edible roots and berries, and this evening when we’ve finished we’ll come and get you.”
At midday Ginny shared her crackers with Timmy who had strewn his on the ground. Then they fell asleep and the afternoon passed, but no one came for the poor children. It was dark night when they woke, and Ginny began to cry.
“Ginny,” Timmy put his arm around his sister to comfort her, “just wait until the moon rises; then we’ll see the cracker crumbs I strewed and they’ll show us the way home.”
When the moon rose, they started out. Only, they didn’t find any trail of cracker crumbs. However, thousands of birds in the forest and fields had enjoyed quite a snack.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find the way,” Timmy said, trying to reassure his sister, but they didn’t find it.
They walked all night and then all day from morning to night, but they were still in the forest, and they were very hungry. Along the way, they did manage to pluck a few berries here and there, but it wasn’t nearly enough to slack their hunger. Eventually they grew so tired that they lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
It was already the third morning since they had left their father’s house. They started out again, but they were getting deeper and deeper into the forest, and unless help came soon, they were sure to die of hunger and fatigue.
At midday, they saw a lovely snow-white bird sitting on a branch. It sang so beautifully that they stood and listened. When it had done its singing, it flapped its wings and flew on ahead, and they followed until the bird came to a tiny shack and perched on the roof. When they came closer, they saw rows of fresh vege-tables, on a sill a pair of pies cooled, and hanging from hooks on the porch were dozens of cased sausages and salamis.
“Let’s eat,” Timmy said. “There’s more food here than I have seen in the past year combined. I’ll grab a couple of those sausages and you pluck a few things from the garden.”
Timmy jogged up and pulled down one of the thick meat cases. He bit off the end, enjoying the spicy savoriness, and Ginny quickly plucked a few tomatoes and pulled up some carrots. The two were so overwhelmed by the prospect of food that they failed to notice somebody stirring about inside the tin-roofed little shack. Both were busy alternately stuffing their mouths and their pockets with food.
All at once the door opened and a grungy, grimy woman missing at least half her teeth came waddling out onto the porch. Timmy and Ginny were so very frightened that they dropped what they were eating.
“Oh, what dear children,” the pudgy woman yowled with a thick, hillbilly drawl. “However did y’all get he-ah? Don’tcha be frettin’, chiles. C’mon in and sit a spell. Ain’t nobody gonna does ya any harm.”
She took them by the hand and led them into her house. Likety-split she had them seated at the table and set out a feast of hotcakes, fruit salad, goat’s milk, honey, and all number of things. Then, after eating until they felt fit to bust, two beds with clean linens and thick comforters was offered to them. Timmy and Ginny were so tired and full that they climbed in without a second thought! Neither could remember anything so heavenly in a long time.
Of course the woman was only pretending to be so kind. Actually she was a little short of a full deck. She’d reached a point of desperation early on when the zombies began wiping out humanity. She’d killed the survivors she was travelling with when she stumbled on this old shack. That’s when she first began to acquire the taste for human flesh. Since she only found the one goat, she decided to keep it around for milk, but the small garden and the sausages she made from human flesh were enough to lure in others. She discovered that she particularly enjoyed child-flesh. It was so sweet and tender. Her only problem was that she’d worn glasses back in the day, and they’d been broken, so she was practically blind. However, that didn’t make her deaf and she’d heard the children coming well in advance. She’d been giddy with excitement when she heard not one but two children outside.
Early in the morning, while the children were still asleep she got up. “What tasty morsels they will be!” she muttered.
She scooped Timmy up out of his bed and carried him to a little shed out back. He woke just as she dropped him on the dirt floor. He began to scream for all he was worth, but much good it did him. Then she went back to Ginny and dumped her out of the bed.
“Get up, Lazybones!” she snarled. “Y’all needs to fetch some water and fix up vittles for ya kin. He be out in yonder shed and we’s fixin to fatten him up proper. Soon as he’s good and chunky, I’m gonna turn him into sausages, salami, and such.” Ginny burst into tears, but it didn’t do any good; she had to do what this hillbilly cannibal told her.
The best of food was cooked for poor Timmy, but Ginny got nothing better than sawdust crackers. Every morning the batshit-crazy hillbilly woman waddled out to the shed.
“Timmy, hold out your finger. I want to see if you’re getting fat,” she grumbled.
Timmy, being somewhat clever, had found a slender bone in the dirt floor of the shed. He had deduced that the crazy lady couldn’t see worth a damn, and so he would hold out that bone. It seemed to be working, because the woman never seemed to notice the ruse. She continued to think it was Timmy’s finger and wondered why he wasn’t getting fat. Four weeks passed and the boy didn’t seem to be getting any fatter. Impatience and the fact that it was reaching a point where she was feeding the boy more than she would gain by chopping him up and eating him finally prompted her to act.
Ginny!” she bellowed. “Git on out and fetch me some water. And don’tcha dawdle. Skinny or fat, I’ma fixin to have me some Timmy-chops come mornin’.”
“Dear God,” Ginny cried as she went and fetched the water. As tears poured down her face, she prayed. “Please help us. If the wild animals in the forest had eaten us, at least we’d have died together.”
“Stop your belly achin’,” the woman barked. “Ain’t no god left, chile. If’n there was, dem zombies wouldn’t be munchin’ on the livin’.”
Early in the morning Ginny had to fill the big kettle with water and light the fire.
“First we’ll bake,” said the hillbilly woman. “I’ve heated the oven and even made a batch of bread from acorn flour.” She drove poor Ginny out to the brick igloo that was her oven. “Crawl in and see if it’s hot enough for bread.”
Once the gi
rl was inside, the woman had decided to close the oven door and roast the sniveling girl, so as to eat her as well. But Ginny wasn’t stupid. She could tell by the way the senile old bitch was slobbering.
“I don’t know,” Ginny wimpered. “How do I get in?”
“Idiot child,” the hillbilly grumbled. “The opening is big enough. Look, even I can get in.”
She pulled open the door and leaned in to demonstrate. Bending over at the waist, she presented her more-than-ample backside to Ginny. The girl gave a mighty push that sent the woman sprawling. She hastily slammed the door and wedged it shut. Gads! How horrible the screeches were that came from within the giant oven. Ginny ran around back, the horrible yowling fading as she rounded the shack and sprinted to where her brother was locked away.
“Timmy, we’re saved!” Ginny gasped as she unlocked the shed and flung the door open. “That crazy bitch is dead!”
Timmy bounded out and scooped his sister up in a great hug. They danced around and jumped up and down in their elation and excitement. And now that there was nothing to be afraid of, they returned inside and began rooting through all the stuff. There was so much food that there was no way they could carry it all. There was a part of them that wanted to just make this their own home. But neither of them could enjoy it without their father. Plus, recent events had done wonders for their self-confidence. They decided that if their stepmother got out of line…well…they knew how they would deal with that.
After loading themselves up with as much food as they could carry—nowadays, food was more precious than any money or jewels—they set out to try and find their home. And as one more precaution, each of the children armed themselves with a machete. After all, once they got out of the woods, they’d be forced to deal with a zombie or two, of that they had no doubt.
When they had walked for a few hours they came to a wide stream. It sat on the edge of a park that they had come to often before the apocalypse. One of their favorite childhood memories had been coming here to ride the paddleboats shaped like giant ducks. Imagine their delight when they discovered one of those very boats washed up on their side of the stream.
Gruesomely Grimm Zombie Tales Page 10
