Part 31 - Cherries, Ketchup and Sugar

Image from iStockphoto.com

Part 31

The three walked silently as they interweaved their paths through backyards, over fences and ducking behind cars. None of them had weapons, so the best tactic was to go  undetected by the dead. Dennis remembered seeing a small diner on the other side  of town, closer to our place. It was pointless to try and run around in the dark, especially unarmed. They quickly decided it would be best to find a safe location to hunker down in for the night. Who knew if the dead could smell a living person? Similar to a snake detecting the heat of it’s prey. If this were the case, then zombies would have quite an advantage in the dark.

The diner would be locked up tight. But if it wasn’t, then we could assume the location was compromised and the dead may be inside. Chris found a baseball bat, Dennis found a lead pipe and the woman found a golf club. They walked up slowly to the little diner with metallic silver siding. Chris kept jumping at his own reflection as they trailed the wall, peering into the windows. Until they got to the front door. There were two sets of double doors. So far so good, the big, glass doors were clean and they were locked.

Chris and the woman stayed by the front doors while Dennis broke into the kitchen door. The overwhelming smell of rotten fruit clawed at Dennis’s eyes causing them to tear. It wouldn’t matter if there weren’t any zombies inside if it still smelled like there was. As he blinked hard and caught his breath he closed his eyes and listened. Nothing. If there had there been a zombie in the this putrid smelling kitchen it would have been alerted by his kicks to the door. Still nothing. He ran across the kitchen, through the single swing door, out into the main dining area, over to the register and thanked his luck that it wasn't an electric cash register. It was an old analogue one. He hit the total sales key and the drawer popped open. A set of keys with a small silver elephant keychain rattled quietly.

Dennis had worked in a diner very similar to this one when he was in high school. His dad had been the cook. He was always the first one in the kitchen and the last one out. Dennis had helped him close up many times and the cash drawer was always where the front door keys were kept. He unlocked the double glass entrance doors and gave a quiet whistle. Chris and the woman ran out from the shadows, closing the doors behind them. The front of the restaurant didn’t smell bad at all. The foul air was almost only present in the kitchen. They managed to move a small fridge over to close the broken back door.

They found new jars of olives, Marchiano cherries, ketchup, packets of sugar and salt behind the counter. There was even warm bottles of water in a corner of the dark display fridge. The cakes and pies had long turned into festering, moldy mounds under their glass covers. They rotted and dried up long ago and now only remained as dark gray and blue carcasses. The three made a bizarre meal out of the condiments and garnishes they had found.

Chris explained how he had been tied up in a room with leather whips and chains on the walls. His restraints hadn’t been tied properly and he was able to loosen them. Frank didn’t notice and kept raving on and on about his daughters. Eventually Chris came up with the idea to tell Frank that he had met other survivors, women survivors who had little girls with them. Chris made a deal to tell Frank where they were if he promised to let him go when he came back with the women. Frank immediately agreed and no sooner than Chris had given him the fake address and fake descriptions of the women, Frank was gone. This is when Chris got free and ran down to the first floor. That’s when he heard strange noises coming from the pantry.

Sounds of the undead eating, feasting, killing. At first, when he looked in the pantry, it didn’t make sense. The boxes of pancake mix were neatly stacked on one wall. Aunt Jemima smiled happily wearing her new strands of pearls. That’s when Chris saw the back wall wasn’t straight. Frank had accidentally left the hidden door slightly open. Chris peered into the dark, moist, bloody room. The scene of horror was overwhelming. He had to find Dennis and get out of this house of horrors. After searching the room and finding the exit Chris went back into the house. Searching the top floor downward. Finally finding the basement door, feeling the woman’s warm body in the darkness, freeing her and then releasing Dennis.

Dennis thanked Chris and put another three olives in his mouth.

“I wish I had a martini to go with these olives.” the woman said.

Chris and Dennis look up at her and chuckled.

“I’d take booze of any kind right now.” Dennis chimed in.

“Too bad this isn’t a bar.” Chris replied.

The three stopped eating and looked at each other before bursting out laughing. They quickly stopped but for a split second the world was a happy place.

“Guess we can bond as friends in the best way, like only alcoholics can.” the woman said as she pulled out a bottle of wine from the far end of the counter.

“Damn, did I just die and go to heaven?” Chris  joked. “ What did you say your name was again?” Chris asked the woman searching for a bottle opener.

She put her fingers round the top of the cork screw and began turning. The silver twist lowered into the cork, further and further down. Each twist bringing the promise of booze closer to their lips.

“My name is Grace.” The bottled popped open and Grace looked at the two men with a smile. Something about her was relaxing and comforting. They spent the night drinking and whispering on the floor of the diner. Once in a while a shadow would appear to be moving somewhere on the other side of the windows.

REVIEW of The Walking Dead on AMC

 Like many of you out there I watched the premiere of The Walking Dead on Halloween night. I have to admit that I was slightly disappointed.

I read the first compendium of The Walking Dead and it is a must read for any zombie fan. That's why I don't understand why the director of the TV show didn't follow the perfectly made storyboard (comic book) already available.

Within the first 3-5 minutes of the show I was unhappy. I feel like they tried to explain too much through dialogue instead of just letting the viewer learn about the characters through their actions. You don't watch a movie or show to have a story told to you, you watch to have a story shown to you. The pace of the TV show left me shocked at how little they showed in 90 minutes. Disappointing.

On a good note, I think that the casting so far is pretty on point and the zombies look fantastic. I am glad that they used real extras for the zombies instead of trying to do it all in post with CG effects.

Overall, I feel like they should have stayed truer to the comic and not tried to ad lib so much and the makeup and visual effects rock! I will be glued to my TV faithfully next Sunday night for the next installment of The Walking Dead on AMC. Hopefully it gets better from here (fingers crossed).

Part 30 - A walk through Hell

Image by Chris Sjafiroeddin, from Lost Zombies dot com.

Breath.

Breath.

Focus on your heartbeat. Hear it beating? Are you sure that's your heartbeat or is that your brain telling you that you have a heartbeat?

Breath.

The blood flowing through your veins gives you life and your heartbeat keeps it all going. Your brain processes thoughts and emotions but does your brain control hunger? Does your brain control the urge to "need" something? Some of you will say yes but then...how do you explain zombies? They have a need for living, human flesh. They have a need to feed...

Dennis slowly opened his eyes. He tried to focus in the darkness but all he can focus on is more darkness. Something woke him, something is moving just beyond him and it isn't the woman tied up across the way. He can feel the movement in the air and someone is whispering. Suddenly he feels hands on his legs and hands on his shoulders. Something moves precariously close to Dennis's head and his first thought is "this is the end". Dennis awaits the feeling of being bit into, of having skin and muscle torn from his bones. The ultimate feeling of helplessness as his life is eaten away from him. He wished he hadn't joined the military and had married his childhood sweetheart in a romantic moment. But then he probably would have to had to live the horror of watching them torn to shreds by a pack of hungry undead. Watch his beloved have her hair torn out and arms devoured by the neighbor and his son's back torn apart and open like a rack of baby back ribs. All this while he fought to defend his own life defenseless to help his family. Dennis closed his eyes tight waiting for the first bite.

But the first bite never comes. Instead he feels a heavy, warm breath.

"It's me...let's go" Chris's voice is a happy sound for sore ears. the hands on his legs are comforting and pleasant, must be the woman...

Dennis feels his wrists go free and he draws his hands in front of him. Nobody speaks and Chris guides him to stand up. They slowly walk up the stairs in the pitch darkness. Chris leading the way and Dennis following up at the end.

"Ok, Frank went out and I managed to get free. All of the doors are locked from the inside except for one door I found but we have to walk though... well... just follow me, stay close..."

Chris opens the basement door and Dennis is temporarily blinded by the light. It feels like ages since he saw light. Eyes re-focus. Welcome back to the happy golden yellow kitchen. It now looks less happy, though, and more like a movie set. The color makes Dennis want to puke and everything looks staged. The maple syrup bottle on the table has a sticker on it that says "Organic from Maine" and shows a snowing forest scene.

"Let's go!"

Dennis and the woman follow Chris through the makeshift kitchen, through a small hallway with empty picture frames and into the pantry. The back of the pantry swings open and the smell of decay burns their nostrils. Tears begin to form as they are thrown into hell.

A hand swings by Dennis's foot and he barely avoids it. Low amber lights illuminate a tight path and blood coats the floor, walls and ceiling. The hand returns to what it's doing and Dennis looks over. a young woman is strapped to the wall tightly and a zombie, the same zombie who just swiped at him returns to the meal of her left calf. you can tell she's still alive as tears flow down her cheeks like a river. the zombie continuously sinks his front teeth into her leg drawing out flesh and pain. The zombie is also chained up unable to go farther than his meal. The next scene Dennis walks by isn't that much different except it's a man chained to the wall with his legs spread. A vicious head is busy eating away at his inner thigh, just inches from his family jewels. It sounds like a fat man sucking the bones of a T-bone steak with a slurpy tongue. The man is unable to scream because his mouth is gagged with a ball and leather strap. Somebody thought about his position in depth.

the next unfortunate victim is unable to scream or move. Her head looks like a dinner plate of sloppy Joe as the zombie chained behind her shovels fist fulls of her brains into his mouth. Dennis paused a moment to watch. slowly the girl's eyes widen, she couldn't be older than fourteen. Her jaw begins to jar. Her eyes begin to move and the zombie behind her stops eating. Dennis wonders how the other zombie knows to stop eating. Zombies are dead cannibals yet they won't eat each other. The woman from the basement tugs on Dennis's arm and he moves forward. His feet slosh through a pool of vomit. The next two scenes disturb Dennis to his core.

Two women are chained up in a precariously weird balance. The first is biting into the others legs and the other woman is biting into her attackers back, teeth first. Both seem to have had their hand severed and bandaged. They are both alive, in the sense that they aren't zombies and yet both appear completely dead. The final scene is of nothing that should exist, not even in hell.

A man, only partially bound, has a knife and is slicing hunks of dead flesh off of a fully bound zombie. He is filleting rotten meat off of the zombie's rib cage in the same fashion a person might slice meat off of a Gyro round of meat. Slowly chewing and ingesting each slice like it was fillet Mignon in the best steak house.

How did this come to pass? How did these people become...or...end up here? ... Frank.

The answers lie with Frank.

Chris swings open the only unlocked door in the house at the end of this path of carnage. Chris, the woman and Dennis step out into the light of a fading day. The fresh air is sweet and the feeling of victory. Dennis gets his first real look at Chris. he has multiple bit wounds on his neck and face and his leg is badly burned.

"Chris?"

"Dennis...let's just get further away and I will fill you in. Don't worry, I'm okay, I swear..."

The three of them run like there's no tomorrow. Far off in the distance behind them they hear an angry scream...

Frank finally came home...and he was pissed.

Part 29 - Let's get a bite?

IMAGE BY KIM K , more of her work can be found here at Lost Zombies.com

The foot belonged to someone who was still able to communicate, still breathing, still human. Dennis was able to ask the foot several questions before pitch darkness took over.

"are you tied up? " - yes
"are we still in Frank or Tom's house" - yes
Are there other people, living people in the house helping Frank or Tom or whatever his real name is? - no
Have you been here long- yes
Does Frank return often? - yes and then no , Dennis asked if that meant sometimes and the foot shook a definite yes.

Judging from the dank smell and level of darkness Dennis assumed that he must be in the basement of the house. The wall he was tied to was made out of cinder blocks. His eyes were useless in the pitch darkness so he tried to hone in on whatever he could with his other senses. He took a deep breath and then another. Analyzing every molecule of air flowing into his nostrils. He could smell the raw body odor of the woman across from him. She smelled salty and dirty. The smell of urine also caught his attention. There was no distinct odor of feces however. This must mean that Frank takes her elsewhere to take a dump or he cleans that up very well. There was also the faintest hint of perfume. Not the sweet expensive kind, no, this was more like a cheap bottle of perfume a high school boy would buy at the local pharmacy to impress his sweetheart. Frank must use the perfume to...? To do what? Cover up the stench of his prisoner?

Dennis felt behind his back with his finger tips. He could feel the ropes tightly bound around his wrists but this was the first time he also felt the handcuffs around his wrists. They were more loosely clasped. The rope was tied into a metal ring in the wall and the cuffs were chained to the same ring. He pulled but the ring was solid and didn't budge an inch.

This was a seriously messed up situation. Not only was a madman upstairs, somewhere, but if zombies were to attack the house he would be incapable of defending himself. The smell of fresh brewed coffee invaded his nose and he could hear someone walking above his head. Coffee, this smell jogged his memory a little. It was once of the last things he remembered before passing out completely. Frank must be near by. But where was Chris?

Suddenly a light came on overhead. Dennis was momentarily blinded by the light. He squeezed his eyes closed and then rapidly blinked them open. He was in the basement alright. For the first time he got to see the owner of the foot he had been conversing with. She was a brunette with a thin build. Perhaps she had had more of an athletic build but being kept prisoner had thinned her down. Her look was one of total despair and yet a glimmer of hope still lingered on. The other leg that wasn't free was chained by the ankle to a huge metal barrel on her right hand side. Her hands were hidden behind her back and Dennis assumed that she was roped up just like him, perhaps cuffed too? Unlike him she was gagged and bound around the mouth. This is why she had been unable to speak.

Frank slowly descended the basement stairs. He stopped on the last step and surveyed the scene infront of him.

"What the fuck have you done with Chris? Why am I here? What's the..." Dennis yelled.

"Shhhhh. Shhhh." Frank said placing a finger on his lips as though he was shushing a small child. "So many questions at once is impolite. Did your parents never teach you manners?" He stopped and took a sip of his coffee then turned his attention to the woman. As he walked over to her Dennis began yelling out questions again and demanding that he answer him. Frank just looked over and then slapped the woman across the face, hard. She began crying and snot ran out of one of her nostrils.

"Yell at me again and I'll do something worse to her." Frank threatened.

Dennis just stared in amazement. This guy was completely insane. As though keeping two healthy humans prisoner in this zombie infested world wasn't proof enough. Frank slowly knelt down next to the woman while placing his mug of coffee on top of the metal barrel next to her. She whimpered like a dog might do right before it's beaten again. Her breath became panicked and you could tell it was getting hard for her to breath with the gag in her mouth. Frank untied her mouth and took the gag out. She took a deep inhale and begged him in a low voice "No!", it was really no more then a whisper.

"Shut up!" Frank said sternly as he took her chin in his right hand and yanked her head to her left, exposing her neck. Dennis couldn't believe as Frank appeared to sink his teeth into her neck. It looked like a vampire scene out of an old movie. The woman's scream gurgled in her throat before spilling out. Frank slammed his hand over her mouth and then straightened back up. He slowly took his hand away and the woman closed her eyes, crying and shaking. There was a huge bite mark and blood trickling down. Frank turned to Dennis who looked like he was shell shocked.

He picked up his coffee and slowly walked back upstairs. The lights went back out and the basement was silent again except for her soft sobbing.

"Are you okay?" Dennis whispered.

"I will be if you can get me out of here." the woman replied.

"I will certainly try."

A Zombie Love Letter

A Zombie Love Letter : Dear Melissa

This is a link to a wonderful 9 page short comic I found. It's a zombie love letter called " Dear Melissa". It is by Kurt Huggins and Zelda Devon. 


The nature of this short story goes against the name of my blog in a beautiful way. I thought it was a nice new twist on how a zombie might think. If they think at all..

DEAR MELISSA - click this link if clicking the picture didn't work

VIDEO - TRAILER for AMC TV series "The Walking dead"

This looks like it is going to be an awesome adaptation of the graphic novel The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman. I already love the trailer! I know where I will be this Halloween evening. I'm going to be watching the 90 minute premiere of The Walking Dead on AMC.

Part 28 - Frank or Tom

 Image By Martin, www.bunker-fx.de

Their story left me sitting with my mouth gaping. I couldn't believe what they were telling me. I remembered the  crazy survivalist guy who had tried kidnapping me when this hell had started. Could the man they had just described to me be one of those people who finally lost all his marbles? Or was this man across town crazy from before and nobody had ever caught on, until now.

On the first day the man had been very hospitable and invited them into his house. He introduced himself as Frank but later said his name was Tom. They weren't sure if either was his real name. They noticed that all of the picture frames in the house were empty. Frank said he had taken the pictures of his family out of the frames after they died. He couldn't stand seeing their smiling faces day after day.

This seemed like an acceptable excuse to both Chris and Dennis for the empty frames on the walls and on the side tables. Other than that, and the boarded up windows on the inside, the place was cozy and comforting. Frank even shared his very well stocked pantry with them. As they sat in the golden yellow kitchen enjoying their pancakes with real maple syrup Frank asked them about where they were from and where they were headed. Dennis basically told his story leaving out that he was staying just across town and Chris just said he's been randomly traveling until he ran into Dennis.  Frank's face seemed to brighten up even more after hearing their stories. Dennis immediately picked up on the vibe and felt uneasy for the first time. Chris just thought the guy was happy to have living people for company again.

Frank was older but not too old. His hair was just starting to show signs of gray and his smile lines ran deep. He was tall and athletically built. He looked like he may have done a lot of exercising when the world was "normal". He wore jeans, a thick black leather belt with a Leatherman clipped onto it, military style boots and a tee shirt that read " Someone who loves me went to Jamaica and bought me this shirt".

Chris and Dennis slept in an upstairs room the first night. The room was painted pink with colorful flowers and two twin beds. Chris laid in bed looking at the happy flowers on the walls and right before he fell off to sleep he almost had the same feeling as when you first start tripping on mushrooms. His stomach lurched, his throat watered and he felt nauseous. His vision blurred ever so slightly and the flowers started dancing. What was happening?He tried to move his hands but couldn't. Was this death? He gave one last struggle before blacking out.

Dennis was in the other twin bed sweating. He knew something wasn't right before his stomach confirmed it. His legs were pins and needles as he got them over the side of the bed. He managed to glance over to Chris who looked sound asleep. Dennis stood up and then doubled over onto the floor. He tried to crawl bit landed on his face, hard. Something warm and wet  trickled down onto his lips. It tasted like hot, liquid metal. Blood. His nose was bleeding. As he laid on the floor he  stared at the light coming from under the bedroom door and the shadow of someone standing on the other side. Frank or Tom or whoever he was stood on the other side, waiting. Dennis understood now, he had been poisoned. Just as Dennis felt his eyelids start to close the door opened and Frank stepped in holding a hot cup of coffee. The steam from the little blue mug was visible and the smell of fresh coffee made Dennis throw up some of his pancakes.

" Now why did you have to try and get out of bed. You got yourself all bloody before your time...now I have to clean you up." Frank said as he stood between the two men passed out in this cute little girls room. Franks expression changed and he poured the hot coffee on Chris's exposed leg. Chris didn't even flinch.

"How dare you disgusting excuses for men touch my little girls! You fucking pedophiles. I'll teach you some fucking respect!" Frank yelled and then kicked Dennis in the stomach, a little more throw up came out of Dennis's mouth.

Hours later Dennis woke up. His feet and hands were bound with ropes. His stomach and ribs hurt like he had been punched an yet he had no idea why. Where was he? It smelled wet and the air was stale. There was also the smell of death. Not the smell of zombies, no, this was the smell of actual death. He could hear movement in the darkness.

There was a small window above his head. One corner was broken and uncovered, letting in a small beam of daylight. It was the only spot illuminated in the entire...wherever here was. Dennis squinted a caught a glimpse of a slender foot swipe at the light. It was a woman's foot and a woman's ankle. Of this much Dennis was certain.

"hello?" Dennis whispered in the direction of the leg. He heard another shuffle and the leg swiped again in his direction. Whomever the leg belonged to they couldn't speak back or move anything besides that one leg. It must have been near the end of the day because the light from the window was starting to turn deep orange and fade.

Dennis asked the leg to answer some questions, if she could, by shaking her foot. Shake once for yes and twice for no. The leg slowly came into the light. Her once well pedicured toes now had nothing but chipped red paint left. It made it look as though each toenail was individually and carefully chewed off. Looking raw with fresh blood but it was really just nail polish. The sole of the foot was dirty and scabbed. Her ankle was almost black from bruises. The battered foot came to a hesitant stop in the light and shook once... Yes.