The Zombies are Coming!

Note: I missed the deadline for this contest, but I decided to write it anyways.Enjoy

Crepuscular creatures were awakening from their long days sleep as I walked out to my bird. I could see the moon peaking over the control tower as I climbed up my bird’s ladder. A bat waffled by as I sat down in the cockpit. I momentarily glanced over at the photo of a fiery redhead that I had taped to my instrument panel. The pic is there to remind me not to do anything stupid during the mission, like getting killed, or the girl in the photo would kill me.

The base would soon be on full alert; reports of a zombie revolution were flooding the Pentagon like Noah’s flood. One simple incident had turned into a continental pandemic. Zombies were lumbering through the streets in search of delicious brains. It didn’t matter if you were wearing a metal pot over your head or planted a garden full of zombie eating plants, you weren’t safe.

I strapped myself in and fired up my birds engines as my canopy lowered. I was awaiting word to proceed from the control tower when I heard a blood curdling scream over my radio. I heard more chaos and something muttering in a daze voice, “Brains. Brains. Must have brains…” I looked up and saw a zombie falling out a window. It burst like a swollen tick when it hit the tarmac.

Automatic fire rang out, I could see a slow moving army of zombies invading the base. The rounds were not slowing them down unless they were a direct hit on the head. I decided I was not about to become an innocent bystander in all this. I engage the VTOL mode of my F/A-37 and took off. I was safe from the zombies unless they learned how to fly. Could they fly? I didn’t know and I wasn’t going to let them either.

My bird locked onto the brainless army, she opened her deadly weapons bay. A cluster bomb dropped from the carousel. A CBU-100 disintegrated over the zombies. The bomblets rained over the zombies and exploded. Zombie parts littered the base. My bird screamed overhead as she came around for another killing run.

A zombie saw me coming around. He picked up a Stinger missile launcher, it misfired. The missile streaked towards the control tower. The tower went up in a fiery explosion, BBQ zombies fell from the fiery inferno. A fellow zombie slapped him in the head and pointed at me.

The embarrassed grinning zombie sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and picked up another launcher. He took aim at my bird, he pulled back the trigger and fired before the launcher could lock on. However, the one who slapped him was still in the back blast area. The zombie was ablaze. The other zombies stopped and tried to help put him out, but the cleansing fire spread to the assisting ones. The infection was over.

My bodacious girl was waving down below, wearing your typical scantily clad zombie killing attire. I smiled, she had escaped the pandemic. Seeing that zombies had been successfully routed I landed my bird. I ran up to my girl, we embraced and shared a victorious kiss.

My girl and I smooched again, the zombie melee seemed like a distorted memory of a dream as our lips pressed. We slowly pulled away as we gazed into each other’s eyes. We were moving in for yet another amorous kiss until we heard a threatening sound.

We turned and saw the Old Man, Admiral Doolittle, commander of the base who just happened to be her grandfather. The crotchety man looked at us displeasingly and snarled, “You two have been married for nine months now. When are you going to give me my first great-grand daughter?”