All Flesh Must Be Gnawed Upon

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Sam stepped outside, moving past the old man who he'd seen earlier just after they'd got there. The air was brisk, he gazed up and down the street, there was no sign of movement...hanging the rifle by it strap over his shoulder he decided to take a short walk down the street just to check the immediate area, in the distance he could hear sirens and gunshots...it was like a city under siege.

 

I didn't like this, the city smelled of smoke and cops were runnig away with their tails between their legs. I was scared, I had to admit. The dead were walking and they weren't the peacful type that settled their tourbles by a long talk in the parlour with a cup of Tetley. They were cuel killing machines, and I never like machines.

I struck out towards my parking spot, unfortunately it was surrounded by a gang of the giggling ghouls. Don't mind the alliteration, the writers guide told me to add them once and awhile. They were they were having a midnight snack and I didn't really want to find out who. Again with the irony, the poor sod with the dismembered limbs was the ticketing agent who always gave me parking tickets, I usually cursed him to hell. I felt a bit bad, but it passed in time. The bastard was probably giving me one when he got jumped. I had to get my car, and there were only two of the vomitous disgusting loads of putrid stinking flesh. I gave Maggie the rest, I'll carry her, she was pretty light and she fits well in the holster. I found a pipe, a decided to give them one hell of a migrain, maybe a head spilting one.

I wiped the blood off my hands on the dash and stuck the key into the key hole thingy. THe heap of plastic and metal spluttered but it faithfuly started, faithful and ugly she was, kinda like my ex-wife, but take away the faithful. I thought, where the hell am I going to go? The roads are blocked with the critters and everywhere else is like an ant hill, and these ants are red ants, with a major bite.

Them it hit me, like my favourite whiskey glass hurled at my head, I still have the scar, the police station has at least some survivors. I know where to go, but how to get there?

I was cruising along when some bloke staggers into the road and I smash him at full speed. Now I felt awful, the person might have been still alive. I put old ugly in reverse, I rolled down the window.

"Are you alreight?"

The face the turned to make eye contact, was missing a nose and an ear and was missing a foot, but he had the glaze in the eyes that was unmistakenly a zombie look.

"Oh, thank heavens, I would have felt awful if were alvie."

"I am alive you bastard! If I could see and get up, I would put my foot so far up your ass, that the next warthog-ed face baboon who comes around will feel it!"

"Oh, your blind then, that explains the blank stare. But, how did you lose a foot, an ear and a nose?"

"Your handy work you F**KING idiot."

"I am awfully sorry... OH MY GOSH!" I screamed as one of the glutoness goblins, pounced on the fearful fellow. I felt awfully bad, I pulled out Maggie and shot the zombie, the blind man's neck was slashed. I had to go on, but I felt horrible and decided to puke when I got somewhere safe.

 

Ed turned to the man talking to him.
'Can you use one? Go and grab something if you can.'

Following his own advice, he entered the lock-up, and took a quick look around. What to take, what to...ah!

Shotgun. Shotgun and magnum. Fun time.

 

Adam nodded, and walked into the armory. Looking around, his eyes settled on the pistols. He tied a pair of police belts around his waist, grabbed a pair of Glocks off the rack, and dropped thek into the holsters, making sure the safety was on. he put a couple of extra clips in his jacket pocket, and started looking for something more substantial. The cop grabbed a shotgun off the wall, and left. Adam looked at the shotgun rack... Only 2 left. He took one, and filled his other jacket pocket with shells. Almost done. On the opposite wall was some leftover riot gear. He grabbed a nightstick, swung it a few times, and put it in the belt. Perfect.

With that, he turned and left the small room.

 

Sam had only got a few buildings down the road when he heard the scream. He stopped, unshouldering his weapon, it had come from somewhere in one of the houses...should he investigate? He waited a moment and heard nothing else...no point...they're probably dead now.

Suddenly a front door flew off its hinges and a figure came stumbling out of the house, scrabbling on the ground. Sam raised his gun, three more figures came shambling out of the house descending upon the first...Damn these street lights, can't see a thing!

He lowered his gun and ran towards the cluster shouting for they're attention, he got it...the three figures looked up and started towards him. Gotcha thought Sam as he fired off three rounds. He ran over to the fallen man, as he reached him he saw the huge rip in the mans shirt and his guts laying strewn out around him...he was still alive, barely...Sam finished him off with another round to the head.

He'd seen enough, and started back to the station...

 

Ed found Rose organising the remaining officers and a few irregulars into fortifying the station. Benches were being piled against doors and windows, and wereever possible, shutters and doors were being locked.
The main door, however, was wide open, and the lights were lit. The station was still to be used as a shelter for whoever needed it, after all.

Ed handed Rose his service pistol, and dropped the magnum into his holster, filling his belt pouches with shells for both of his weapons.

'You look like Dirty Harry,' she commented as he leant past her to look out of a gap in the window barricade. Outside was reasoably quiet, but he doubted that would last.

He turned away, and entered the radio room, and heard Rose follow.

'Get on the radio and see if you can get hold of any other stations.'

'Sure. Want chips with that?'

'And a milkshake. Jump to it.'

 

I didn't like this, I was hoping not everywhere would be affected but where ever I drove, the side walks were cluttered with the things. Some would drift on to the road and I made sure to run 'em down.

There was nothing alive, I even saw a cat missing a chunk out of it's side. It was disturbing, but as long as I was in my car, they couldn't hurt me but she was running out of gas and I had to get to a police station. Luckily over the next bend a well lit building emerged and the police's staions front doors were open, at first I thought it was full of the zombies, but I saw people inside walking around and still had all their limbs. I sped down the road and bumped kup onto the kurb. I felt the puke start to form in the back of my throat. I rushed past the yelling, bloody police officers, and went into the mens room, found a semi clean toilet and let it rip, I needn't say more.

 

Kyle had since lost the women, and came across a car, with its lights still on. In good condition. A little bloody on the grill, but good condition nonetheless. He looked inside; cracked leather interior, smelled like rank cigarettes. Reminded him of his father. He straightened up, looked around, then saw that he was beside the police station!

"Oh Praise the lord!"

Kyle ran inside, only to find a dozen pistols pointing at him. A policeman's voice came from behind an upturned desk, "A-Are you a z-zombie?"

"If I had a nickel for everytime I've been asked that! And, to answer your question, no, last time I checked, I wasn't a zombie." Kyle stared off into space for a moment, "Yes, definitely not a zombie."

"Well, get behind the desks then, we're holding off zombies in here until we can get some kind of outside help."

"Aren't you the help that the rest of the town needs?"

"Uh.. just get behind the desks!!" The policeman scolded, "And did one of your friends just run in here? He's in the bathroom."

"No, I don't have any friends." A policeman in the corner chuckled, and Kyle narrowed his eyes at him, "I mean I don't have any friends with me. Anyway, I'll go and see the man in the bathroom, maybe he's a zombie!"

Kyle wandered past the policemen with a slightly dazed look on his face, and pushed the door open lazily only to find a man cowering over a toilet. The rank smell of vomit washed over him.

"Ew.. Uh, are you alright.. oooooorr, are you a zombie? You can just answer with a grunt if you want," Kyle paused, "Well, then I wouldn't be able to tell which you were.. soo, don't grunt unless you're a zombie. And if you are, wait here after you tell me until I get a gun, ok?"

 

"Urgh, no I am not dead," I burped. "I feel like it."

I grinned, but actually did mean it, my stomach grumbled and I leaned over the bowl once more. The death stuff isn't very good for one's appetite.

"Hey kid, ask the pigs what happened, and where the **** is the army?"

I hugged my bowl again.

 

Kyle wretched as the man once again vomited. "Uh, from what I've overheard, the telephones have been knocked out somehow. The realised I was listening before I could hear more. I don't know where the army are, or how many people this is affecting." Kyle leaned against the white wall, then nature called and went to the urinal.

 

I looked over at the yongue sprout and laughed to myself, poor fella isn't pcking much.

"Who are you kid?" I asked, "you don't seem the type to have survived that. By the looks of you, you would have ran like a little girl. No offense."

 

Kyle glanced at the old man, and pursed his lips for a moment. He cleared his throat and said quietly, "I'm a grower, not a shower."

"My name is Kyle," He said louder now, "And I'm an actor." The man held back a laugh. "Laugh as you will, but it's a respectible career. Anyway, I .. er uh, did not run like a girl. I simply battled 6 or.. 10 lady zombies.. and then walked here." He paused, gulped, then asked, "And you, old timer, what's your name? You look like you've seen enough of life."

 

"Lady zombies? Did you battle them, or court them?" I grinned.

"And I don't like being called old, 46 is a respectable age, and it would be well if you remember that, or you won't be growing anything." I warned, I didn't mean it, but I was a pretty good liar.

 

Sam reached the police station and entered, he needed to wash the mans blood off himself...he entered the stations bathroom to find two men, one old and one young speaking. He nodded at them in greeting and moved to the basin and turned on the tap, beginning to wipe away the blood.

 

Kyle, being an actor, treated everything life like a production for some famous producer that would make him rich. So, he didn't take things seriously, but acted like he did.

"Oh, well. Anyway, the ladies rushed me, and unlike other stereotypical zombies, they ran really fast. I mean, really fast."

 

"Maybe you're just slow." I grinned and went out to look for something to eat, and most importantly to drink. MacKay is empty, my hip flask that is.