Zombies

Word count: 970       


My back was pressed hard against the whitewashed shed door. Bodies were throwing themselves at the other side ceaselessly. I could smell the putrid rot of the animated corpses, feel the reverberations of their thuds on the outside. How many were there? Was this really happening? I couldn't shake the thought that maybe I'd inadvertently walked through the set of a Romero feature. The door shook. A series of rasping groans came through the wood. This was happening, I couldn't stay here. I rolled a drum in front of the doorway.

         A quick double take of the shelter I'd found showed it to be a grounds keeper's shed. One wall was covered with yard equipment. I realised I was still clutching the flowers I'd brought for mum's grave. I threw them to the ground and reached for a pair of pruning shears and headed for the sole window at the other end of the room. I turned at the sound of a guttural roar and loud crack as a thick arm broke through the decaying wood of the shed's door. No time, there's just no time. I need to get back to the car.

         The window was too clouded with dirt and cob webs to see anything clearly. I shattered the glass with the shears attempting to clear what glass I could.  Through the frame I took in as much of my surroundings as possible. The ground of many graves were writhing agitatedly, occasionally an arm, head or a full torso was spewing forth. Those, those …  zombies that were already free seemed to be shuffling in the direction of the crowd at my door. None seemed to have noticed the breaking glass.

         Crack! Eaaargh! A heavy set corpse with a moulding tuxedo hung half way through the door now batting at the drum in front of it like a toddler on his high chair table. A mass of dirty hair, exposed scalp, skull and arms could be seen waving about in the melee behind him. I grabbed a  throw rag to cover  the last jagged bits of glass in the window frame and threw the shears through before crawling out after them.

I crumpled hands first onto the ground but pulled myself to a crouching position as quickly as possible. Six or so zombies scattered around me paused to look in my direction. I picked up the pruning shears and stood slowly. A female figure with her jaw hanging loosely gargled something with a swing of her head and hobbled slowly in my direction. The others followed suit. I struggled to pull together my sense of direction,swinging my eyes  across the cemetery. The fountain! The fountain was near the entrance. I lunged in that direction running straight through the graves, dodging past headstones and abhorrent pale faced abominations. I dashed past the fountain and plunged through a hedge I thought led me to the car park quicker. Stumbling out the other side I was tripped up, hitting the ground heavily.

         The obstacle at my feet was a woman's body.  Her fresh yellow dress, torn and stained with blood.  A pair of monstrosities in the guise of children were devouring her face and neck with the enthusiasm of wild beasts. They seemed too pre occupied with their feast to take any notice of me as I scrambled to my feet again with aid of my shears. A hand burst from the earth of a grave one row back. A rusted rattle clasped firmly in its fingers.

         I could see the car park from here. The sight of my goal snapped me back into action. I tore my mind from the horrors around me to focus on my immediate need of sanctuary. My legs started pumping again as I bolted through the pleasure gardens and across the barren parking lot. Why did I park so far away? A number of the ghastly apparitions had made it this far already but were too slow to reach me as I ran.

         A woman was standing by my car door apparently trying to get in.
“Get out of the way!” I yelled as I came closer. “It's my car! I'll give you a...” I recognised that dress. It looked somewhat grimier than I remembered. She turned towards the sounds of my yells and exposed her face, flesh appearing to drip off one cheek. One eye oozing a thick black fluid.
“Mum?”
She looked at me, seemingly thoughtfully, with her one clouded eye. Did she know me? She seemed to know her old car.
“Mum, are you alright?” The absurdity of the question asked of my 2 year dead mother dawning even as the words came out of my mouth. She reached out to me. I didn't know whether to cry or scream, this was all too much.
“Mum can you hear m....” She lurched forward and clutched at me with her mouth gaping. I pushed back at her with the shears. She pulled herself forward, pushing her head between the blades in an effort to bite me. I ripped the shears closed! They cut through the decomposing flesh like a sponge cake and the brittle bones splintered like kindling. Her skull rolled to one side.

I paused panting and trying to avoid looking at the corpse. A sound from behind alerting me to the other patrons of the car park moving towards the commotion.

“Fuck!” I screamed “Fuuuuuuuck!” I threw the shears away and reached for my keys, opening the  door and bringing the car to life in short swift movements. I reversed out of my park and slammed into gear roaring towards the road. Somebody's got to tell them. Somebody's gotta get a clean up out here. The dead are walking the earth; and they're hungry.