A Fistful of Zombies: 12 Zombie Tales

by Dane Hatchell

  A Fistful of Zombies

  Dane Hatchell

  These stories are a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 Dane Hatchell

  Cover Copyright © P.A. Douglas

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  From Severed PRESS

  Contents

  Love Prevails. 6

  A Gentleman’s Privilege. 37

  Lord of the Flies: A Zombie Story. 53

  Club Dead: Zombie Isle. 69

  Turning of Dick Condon. 93

  Pheromone and Rotten. 108

  Zombies of Iwo Jima. 140

  Dead Coup d’État. 155

  The Garden of Fear. 178

  How Do You Eat a Whole Human?. 200

  Zombie’s Honor. 232

  Love Prevails

  A lone voice screaming in the distance brought back the dreadful fear of the walking dead to the pit of Keith’s stomach. He and the three others froze with uncertainty. Two weeks of trudging through the wilderness without incident had forged a bridge of hope that it might be possible to evade the unholy things that now plagued the planet. That bridge, it turned out, was built of folly.

  “Someone’s in trouble. We have to go and help,” Kara said to Keith, her husband.

  Keith cupped his hand behind his ear and closed his eyes. “By the sound of things, it may be too late. We don’t need to risk our safety over a lost cause.”

  “Kara’s right,” Jill said, moving closer to Steve, her husband. “There’s another living human being in trouble. We’re morally obligated to help. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

  Keith opened his mouth to protest, but then lowered his head. With a deep sigh, he motioned toward the valley below.

  The terrain sloped sharply, at times demanding patience and sure footing. A line of tall pines a few hundred feet away hid what lay ahead. Both men carried shotguns tricked out for maximum ammo capacity. The women carried well-worn machetes.

  It took nearly ten minutes to arrive at the line of trees. Keith had led the way as usual, with Steve maintaining the rear. Low hanging branches of the pines provided a handhold to ease the descent.

  “All we’re doing is wasting energy. He’s probably being eaten alive right now. We’ll be next if we’re not careful,” Keith said.

  “We’ve come this far, so we’ll see it through. Besides, I spotted a stream over to the east where we can get fresh water,” Kara said. “Once we reach the bottom, it’ll be easier to get to.” The group slowed as the trees gave way to a clearing.

  The bright sunshine illuminated a grassy area a hundred yards away. The source of the screams finally came into view.

  Keith removed a pair of binoculars from his backpack and focused on the distant figure. A middle-aged man hung upright with his arms stretched above his head. His wrists were bound together, tying him to the top of a pole. His face was bloody and gaunt from dehydration. Black turkey vultures fed greedily on corpses around him.

  “This is not good . . . .” Keith said, taking his eyes away from the binoculars. “We should leave. No zombie tied him there. We should leave right now.” He read the indecision in the others’ faces and raised the binoculars for another look.

  Two living dead shuffled into view as the screams for help continued. “Oh my God, two walkers are about to get him . . . there’s no way we can get there in time. I hope the end comes quickly.”

  When the zombies neared the fresh meal, a thicket not far away shook as two men with long spears and two with machetes charged out yelling whoops and hollers. The spearmen ran the zombies full force through the chest, driving them down to the ground. The machete wielders followed close on their heels, bringing shiny blades of steel crashing through the grinning skulls of death.

  “Wow, did you see that?” Keith said

  “I could just make it out. They were using that guy for bait. What is this, some kind of sport? This is evil. We need to get the fuck out of here,” Steve said anxiously.

  The women stood silently.

  “Right, let’s go. We should go to the stream and get water. Then we can make our way back where we veered off. On second thought, the stream is heading the direction we were going. Let’s follow it for as long as we can. We might snag some fish or wild game.” Keith turned to lead. The others fell in line, with Steve staying close to Jill. No one said a word again about the screams as the couples pushed forward.

  The crystal waters of the stream rolled over rocks and spun small eddies by the tall grasses near the bank. Each member of the group found a suitable spot to wash off the most recent layers of grime.

  Keith scooped out a taste with a small plastic cup. The water was cool and fresh, nothing like the canned military issued water they had brought with them at the beginning of the journey. Passing the cup to Kara, he removed his canteen and filled it. Steve had the dubious honor of being the pack mule, and refilled the three-gallon container he carried on his backpack.

  “Hello there!” A friendly voice called from behind them.

  Whipping around, Keith leveled his shotgun at a man standing just a few feet away. Steve followed suit.

  The stranger wore a set of blue overalls and a red cotton shirt. A Remington shotgun hung unthreatening on his shoulder.

  “Well, now. There’s no cause for that. You can put your guns away,” the man said.

  “Jesus, man, you scared me half to death. What are you doing sneaking up on us like that?”

  “Wasn’t sneakin’. Just makin’ my security rounds. Name’s Pete. Pete Zeller.”

  Keith thought a moment, looked at the others, and then lowered the shotgun. Steve was in the ready position to use his if necessary.

  “Sorry, I’m just a little jumpy . . . you understand. My name is Keith Sims, and this is my wife, Kara.” He nodded toward Kara. “That’s Steve Mitchell, and his wife, Jill.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to meet ’cha. Where’re you folks from and where’re you headin’?”

  “We’re from Bakersfield, about 300 miles away according to my GPS. I guess the undead were running out of food in the cities and started hitting small towns. We could see the writing on the wall and got the hell out of there before it was too late. We’re heading north to Big Bear National Forest. We plan on living off the land and surviving as the pioneers did, until the dead all rot away or we all die trying.”

  Pete raised his eyebrows. “You still got a long way to go to get there. If you’re lookin’ for a safe place, you’ve already found it. This area, the hills and mountains, have kept us hidden from any major invasion so far.”

  “You said ‘us.’ How many are we talking about?” Keith asked.

  “There’s a whole tribe of ‘us,’” Pete said with a smile. “The main bunch of us belonged to a survivalist group before the dead came back. We were gearing up for the fall of society. We sure as heck didn’t see it comin’ this way.” Pete scratched the back of his head and squinted toward the sun. “Our little village has become a melting pot of wanderers. All races, creeds, and colors. We even have dogs and cats and livestock. Perhaps you, your wife, and your friends there might like to come visit. We would sure welcome two new couples.”

  “Thanks, buddy, but I don’t think so. A large number of people are sure to attract the undead sooner or later,” Steve said. “We just went through that. We think our chances are better on our own.”

/>   “I understand, friend, but I recommend that you leave the valley the way you came.”

  “Yeah, why’s that?”

  “Well, you keep followin’ the stream and you’ll be gettin’ into some thick brush. You’ll have to use a machete to hack your way through. It’ll slow you down.”

  Keith looked at his crew and then farther down the stream. It was lush and thick with greenery.

  “Okay, guys, what do you think?” Keith asked.

  “We were making good time before we took the detour. It’s not that far back, and we don’t know what lies ahead, but heading back up isn’t going to be easy,” Steve said.

  “Not to worry, I know a better way.” Pete said, and started forward at a brisk pace. The others secured their gear and followed him.

  “Hey, Pete, it just occurred to me, how do you know that this is the way we came?” Keith asked.

  Pete stopped, turned, and faced him. A broad smile grew on his face. “Well, because we’ve been followin’ you.”

  A small group of men stepped out of the brush and joined Pete. Before the travelers could so much as move, four pump shotguns cycled, bringing a new perspective to the situation.

  Steve’s face went blank. He slowly lifted his gun barrel up from the ground.

  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Pete warned calmly, his shotgun still hanging from his shoulder.

  “What do you want?” Keith asked with disgust in his voice, pulling Kara closer to him. Steve stepped in front of Jill.

  “Nothing, nothing really,” Pete smiled. “We just don’t want you to make a mistake goin’ out there all alone. Just come on and visit us for a spell. If you don’t like what you see, you can leave. Now, let me hold on to those guns for you so we don’t spook anyone along the way, all right?”

  “Oh, Keith, what are they going to do to us?” Kara whispered in his ear.

  “I don’t know, honey, but I’ll protect you. You know I’ll always protect you.”

  “Now see here, little missy, don’t go to frettin’ none. There’s food and ammo and music. We’ll make you feel right at home. Just follow me, and we’ll be there in no time.”

  With no other option available, the four fell in line and marched to an unknown destiny.

  The rest of the journey passed in silence, the path leading up a rocky hillside before returning to flat land. The village came into view within an hour.

  The village consisted of individual housing, constructed mainly from logs, branches, rocks, dried mud, and grass. A countless amount of human bones from destroyed zombies lined the perimeter.

  “This is awful,” Kara said.

  “Helps mask the smell of the livin’. You’ll get used to it,” Pete said. “You won’t even notice it after a while.”

  “We won’t be here that long. Just give us the fifty-cent tour. You said you’d let us go after we got here,” Keith reminded.

  “Well, can’t let you go until you see Chief Bronson. He’s the leader of our little tribe. Real fine man. Real strong too.”

  Pete led them down the main path of the village. Human bones adorned the small cabins like a shop of horrors. Femurs tied together formed crude fences, with skulls smiling on top of the posts. One man working an ancient plow was busy digging a drainage ditch. Two living dead harnessed to the plow provided the horsepower. A pole extended in front with a human arm dangled from a rope as a substitution for a carrot. Three men with guns stood casually by keeping order. Two young boys crossed their path, hacking at each other with humerus bones in a mock machete fight. A middle-aged woman pounded skeletal remains into small pieces while a younger girl used a mortar and pestle to grind the crushed bone into powder for fertilizer.

  The cabins were small and very confining from the looks. People meandered about performing chores, not paying much attention to the four new arrivals.

  The few old people they encountered didn’t even bother to look up from their work. It was as if they were trying to avoid attention. The number of cabins suggested that the populace was less than a hundred.

  They passed out of the main village and headed toward a group of twenty gathered in the distance. The group was overlooking the valley where the man posed as zombie bait. One member saw Pete and the others approaching and alerted a tall, bearded man.

  Keith assumed from the body language of the group that this had to be Chief Bronson who Pete spoke of. Bronson was an imposing bear of a man, his full beard and long hair belied his youth. Beside him stood two women. One was tearful, her eyes focused on the ground. The other was smug and clung possessively to his side.

  “Ho, Pete! A fine day it is that you have found new friends,” the bearded man bellowed toward the approaching group. “Welcome, my friends! Welcome to New Paradise. I’m Bronson, and my word is law here. Who might you be?”

  Keith turned with a surprised expression toward the rest. “Is this guy for real?” he said in a low voice. He turned back around and addressed Bronson. “My name is, Keith. This is my wife, Kara. That’s Steve, and his wife, Jill. We’re from Bakersfield and we’re just passing through. We aren’t staying, and wouldn’t be here if we didn’t have those damn guns to our backs.” He gestured behind him.

  Bronson’s brow slowly creased. He pursed his lips in exaggerated thought. “The way I see it, you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been trespassing in New Paradise.” He tilted his head. “You might have led a gang of the undead to our village.” He moved closer to Keith. “You might have endangered us all. If you did bring the undead with you, then it’s you and your companions’ responsibility to be here to help in the fight.”

  “We weren’t followed, and we didn’t know we were trespassing. Just let us go,” Steve said.

  “Sorry, friend, it doesn’t work that way. You’ll stay as long as I say. And I say you leave when I feel that a chance of danger has passed.”

  A cry for help erupted from the staked-out victim in the valley. His anguished voice cracked in the wind.

  “Bronson, please . . .” the tearful woman said in a broken voice. “Please stop this. Just end it now.”

  Bronson turned his back to Keith and walked over to the two women. He stopped and placed a hand on the shoulder of the one crying. “Elizabeth, you know the rules.”

  She looked at him with big watery eyes. “It’s over, you’ve won . . . I’m yours . . . please end it now.”

  Bronson grabbed the back of her neck and gave her a deep kiss, grinding his pelvis against hers.

  The other woman standing beside him slapped him on the back.

  “Not now Teri.

  He let go of Elizabeth and made a hand gesture toward Pete.

  Pete called out an order. One of the men standing by the edge of the ridge blew a whistle. Pete then led the captives through the crowd for a look down to the valley.

  After minutes of waiting, they saw a mixture of eight men and boys carrying spears prod a lone zombie with its arms bound behind its back toward the man. The zombie snarled and resisted until it sensed the prey in its path.

  The man had been semiconscious. The commotion of the approach snapped him into fearful alertness. His dry screams rattled in his throat. The lumbering ghoul fixated on the warm breathing flesh, and quickened its pace as much as its atrophied muscles allowed.

  The man yelled with newfound vigor as the zombie chewed a mouthful of his cheek. The zombie gnawed off his nose next, then his lips. Then it tore into a chunk of neck. The screaming mercifully ended, but the monster continued to feed at the pleasure of the Chief.

  “This is just sick . . . what’s the matter with you people?” Keith said.

  “Ah, well, as if you’re one to judge. This was justice. This was his doing,” Bronson said.

  “But you said your word is the law, so the responsibility lies with you. You could have stopped it.”

  “He broke the law, and it’s by my hand that the laws will be kept.”

  “What could he have possibly done to deserve to be torture
d like that?” Steve asked.

  “He lost the challenge.”

  “Lost what challenge?” Keith asked.

  “For control of the village. The challenge to be the leader and make the decisions. I beat him fair and square, as witnessed by all. I won, he lost. His woman is mine. His possessions are mine. If I had lost, my body would be tied to the pole feeding the zombies instead.”

  Kara leaned into her husband and whispered. “Save me, Keith. You said you would save me.”

  “Shhh, don’t worry, honey. Let’s not overreact. It’ll be okay. Give me some time.”

  Jill huddled behind Steve, who said, “This is your justice, not ours. We don’t belong here, let us go.”

  Bronson raised his voice. “I say when you leave . . . unless you want to challenge me for Village Chief.”

  Steve took half a step backward, dropping his focus to the ground. Bronson’s angry scowl softened as his gaze roved across Jill’s creamy, smooth skin, green eyes, and well-toned figure. He bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Maybe you should check with your wife first. If you lose, she’s mine.”

  Bronson turned around and walked a few feet from the crowd. “Listen up! Listen up everyone! It’s time we prepare for tonight’s festivities. Jason, Jeremy, your assignment is—”

  In the far distance a horn blew. Bronson stopped in the middle of his speech and listened.

  He glared at Keith. “Now, you see? You did lead them here. Pete, give them their guns back. Everyone load up and ready to your positions.”

  “What do you mean?” Keith said.

  “The long range horn signals there are fifty or more of the undead approaching from the southeast,” Bronson said. “We go out in groups of five. We’ll split you two up. Follow your group leader. Don’t worry about the women. There’ll be men guarding them.”

  One of Bronson’s girls told Kara and Jill to follow her. Bronson commanded all the women to stay together. Keith looked at Kara and Steve, and nodded. With protest, Kara followed as Jill pulled her by the hand.