Echoes Of The Dead

"She's right," Jessie said. "Robbie, or whatever that thing is, isn’t going to stop until he has Heidi and me."

"We won’t let that happen," Carl said, resting a steady hand on her shoulder.

Francine’s stomach tightened.

Jessie had only been a widow a few months. The last thing her brother needed was to lose his heart to a woman whose husband might not be entirely dead.

Jessie drew a slow breath. "He’s always known what he wanted, and he never stopped until he had it. That used to be one of the things I loved about him. Until it turned into obsession."

She stared down at her hands.

"One day he was Robbie, the man I fell in love with. The next day he was angry. Suspicious. Controlling. Like he was watching me all the time. Like I belonged to him."

"When did it start?" Carl asked gently.

"The day his father died. Robbie was there when it happened." She hesitated. "At first I told myself it was grief or regret. They hadn’t spoken in years."

"Regret?" Carl prompted.

"Robbie tried to fix things. After his mother passed, he reached out again. But his father was cruel and manipulative. Everything Robbie eventually became."

"It must have been terrifying," Francine said softly. "Watching the man you loved turn into someone else."

"Almost as if he did," Sondra murmured.

The room went still.

Francine turned slowly. "You’re thinking possession?"

Sondra did not answer immediately. Her gaze never left Jessie. "It wouldn’t be the first time," she said at last. Then she asked, deliberate and precise, "Was his father involved in the occult?"

Jessie hesitated long enough to be answer enough.

"Yes," she whispered. "Obsessed. Books. Rituals. Symbols carved into things. He talked about vampires constantly. About their blood. About how it could bring someone back from the dead."

Silence pressed in from all sides.

"I thought he was delusional," Jessie continued, her voice tightening. "But after he died, Robbie started repeating the same things."

Her eyes flicked toward Francine and then to Hunter.

A flush crept up her neck.

Hunter held her gaze calmly. "There are more of us than you know," he said. "Though far fewer than there used to be."

Jessie swallowed hard. "Robbie said vampire blood could resurrect the dead. That if you had enough of it."

"That is a lie desperate men tell themselves," Sondra snapped.

Her voice cut clean through the air.

"Death is absolute. Once the heart has stopped and the soul has fled, nothing brings it back. Not spells. Not rituals. Not blood."

Her eyes shifted to Francine.

"A vampire must feed three times. On the third feeding, he shares his blood. But the human must still be alive. Weak. Dying. Suspended between breaths. Like Francine was. But not dead."

The words lingered.

Heavy.

If Robbie had tried to resurrect his father, if he had believed the ritual would work, then whatever was walking around in Robbie’s body now was not his father.

And it might not be Robbie either.

It's Only Tuesday

 “We need Joseph,” Francine said, glancing around the room. She knew them all except for the woman and the child. And even then, she felt as though she had met them before. In a dream… or somewhere else.

“Francine, you know that’s not possible,” Carl said. “He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“We don’t know that,” Deb said. The hope in her voice was faint, but it was there.

“Agreed,” Francine said. “We just need to find a way to let him know we need him.”

“We don’t need him,” Hunter growled. “We can handle this creature without him.”

“Really?” Francine asked, fighting the irritation creeping into her voice. She knew Hunter was jealous of Joseph. He always had been. “I know you’re thinking of that low-level demon my father conjured, but this one is different. You didn’t see it. I think it’s more dangerous than the one my father tried to bring through.”

Carl nodded. “We barely escaped the diner.”

“He’s not a demon,” Jessie said quietly. “He’s my husband.”

“Dead husband,” Francine corrected. “And very much a demon. Shit. The last thing I wanted to deal with was a demon. It’s only Tuesday.”

“I don’t know what Tuesday has to do with it,” Deb said. “And I can’t believe you left me behind. That thing could have torn you apart.”

“I’d like to see it try,” Francine said, flashing her fangs.

The truth was, she was terrified.

Three months earlier, she had woken from a dream certain she was dealing with another ghost, though not quite like her father. William had been evil enough, with his plan to murder her and claw his way back into the world not as a spirit, but as something immortal.

They had forced him back into the spirit realm with the help of Aunt Penny. Carl had almost died that night. Grandma and Kira, Hunter’s wife, had crossed over to pull him back. Both were spirits. Both were gone again.

Not completely gone.

Francine wondered if they could help now.

Carl’s near-death experience left him walking between worlds. He could still speak to them, but it drained him. And he hated doing it.

Aunt Penny had once stood beside William. She had claimed it was to protect Carl. She had raised him after their parents died. In the end, she sacrificed herself to save him when she realized William meant to kill Carl too.

Now she lingered, trying to earn forgiveness Carl could not give.

Francine suspected he would not feel so exhausted after each encounter if Penny would just leave him alone.

“Well, we have to do something,” Hunter said. “It has come into our world. And it is not going to stop until we send it back.”

“We could just let it have what it came for,” Sandra said.

She had been sitting in the corner, silent while the rest of them argued about the demon. Francine had almost forgotten she was there. Now she turned toward her, stunned by the flatness in her voice.

“No?” Sandra asked in her thick Russian accent. But there was something else beneath it. Not indifference. Calculation.

“No,” Francine said. “We said we were going to help Jessie and Heidi, and we will.”

“You said. I didn’t.”

The words landed heavier than they should have.

Francine stared at her. This was not like Sandra. She was guarded, yes. Practical. But not cruel. Not someone who abandoned people in danger.

Unless she knew something they didn’t.

Francine remembered the night Hunter had attacked her. Then the night she’d been turned. Sandra had not coddled her, but she had stayed. She had explained what hunger felt like. What control meant. She had helped her survive the first weeks of her new life.

Sandra was half vampire, a dhampir born of a mortal woman and a vampire father. Kira’s sister. She understood monsters better than most of them.

So why did she look almost resigned?

“Why are you helping us?” Jessie asked suddenly. Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it. “I didn’t even know you until today.”

“You didn’t,” Francine said gently. “But Heidi did. In her own way. She sent out a cry for help the night your house burned down.”

Jessie shook her head. “No. She didn’t. She couldn’t have.”

“She’s a powerful psychic,” Francine said. “She entered my dream and pulled me into your house. I saw everything.”

“You’re saying my daughter invaded your mind?” Jessie’s voice sharpened. Defensive. Fracturing. “She’s eleven.”

“She was terrified,” Francine said. “That kind of fear can open doors.”

“Psychics aren’t real,” Jessie whispered. But her eyes were wet now. Her breathing shallow. “None of this is real.”

“And neither are vampires,” Deb snapped. “Or werewolves. Or ghosts that try to crawl back into bodies. But we’ve checked all those boxes, haven’t we?”

“Deb,” Carl warned.

“No.” Deb stepped forward, anger flashing in her eyes. “She needs to stop pretending. That thing at the diner wasn’t a grieving husband. It wasn’t confused. It knew what it was doing.”

Jessie flinched.

“And you know it too,” Deb pressed. “You felt it when it looked at you. That wasn’t love.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Sandra finally spoke again. “Demons do not cross over without purpose,” she said quietly. “They come for something specific.”

Her gaze shifted to Jessie.

“And they do not leave without it.”

Hounds of Hell

Francine sat in the back of the van, waiting for Carl to come out with the woman and the child.

What was taking so long?

She knew it would take time to convince the woman he was on her side, but this was taking way too long. The diner had closed an hour ago, early, and she suspected that was Carl’s doing, especially after she’d seen the cook leave. Still, it shouldn’t be taking this long.

Something had gone wrong.

Francine glanced through the tinted windshield and winced. The sun hadn’t completely set. It wasn’t safe for her to leave yet. She wished she’d asked Deb to come along, but the thought of Deb possibly changing in front of an already terrified mother and a traumatized kid had convinced her to leave her friend behind.

“What was I thinking?” she muttered. “They’re already dealing with an evil spirit. A werewolf in pink would be a novelty.”

From inside the diner came a scream. Then a loud crash.

Sun be damned. It was almost gone. She would have to take her chances.

Throwing a blanket over her head, Francine yanked open the sliding door. Before she could step out, the diner’s back door burst open and Carl came running. He carried the child and pulled the woman behind him. They scrambled into the van.

The entity wasn’t far behind.

Through the doorway, Francine saw red eyes.

The creature wasn’t just a ghost. It was more solid than that, but not quite flesh. It moved fast, too fast, then stopped when it saw her.

Francine bared her fangs and snarled, daring it to try her.

The van lurched forward. The sudden motion knocked her backward as the sliding door slammed shut. Carl was already in the driver’s seat, flooring it like the hounds of hell were after them.

Francine had a feeling that wasn’t far from the truth.

“What the hell was that?” Carl croaked. “I’ve seen spirits my entire life. I’ve never seen one like that. Not even our own father was that… that…”

His voice trailed off, unable to find the right word.

“Ungodly,” Francine finished for him.

Reverberations

 

 

Reverberations

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Jessie didn’t know how the fire had gotten out of control so fast.

Panic coursed through her as she raced toward the back of the house. Heat from the flames seared her back, driving her forward. If she stopped, she wouldn’t make it out.

Something crashed behind her.

She resisted the urge to look back, to witness the destruction of her home. Focusing on the door ahead, she pushed on. Only a few more feet.

Her heart pounded in her ears, competing with the wail of sirens outside.

The door was right there.

She didn’t check the handle for heat. She just turned it and shoved it open.

“Mommy?”

Heidi was crouched in the corner.

Jessie dropped to her knees and crawled to her daughter, pulling her into her arms. They couldn’t go back the way Jessie had come, but there was the window.

She didn’t think. She just moved.

She shoved it open, climbed onto the ledge, and with her daughter cradled in her arms, she jumped.

Behind her, the man, or something wearing the man’s shape, stood and lurched toward the window.

He couldn’t go after them. There were too many witnesses.

He turned and moved back through the house, waving the fire out of his way as he went. The flames bent to his will.

Before long, so would his wife and daughter.

Francine sat up, gasping for breath.

The image of the fire clung to her.  She coughed, clearing invisible smoke from her lungs.

Her bedroom door flew open and Francine's room was invaded by a tumble of blond hair and pink pajamas. Her roommate.

Deb looked around, confused. “I heard you scream. What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare.”

She wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. “It’s not like you to have bad dreams.”

She went still. She didn’t like what she smelled.

Smoke?

A warning growl rumbled low in Deb's throat.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Francine said. “What I saw is happening. Now.”

Fire engines screeched through the night somewhere nearby.

Deb moved to the window. “Are you saying you had a premonition? That’s not something you’ve ever done before.”

“I don’t think I did. Someone was reaching out to me. Asking for help.”

Francine grabbed my phone and checked the time before dialing.

Five p.m.

The sun was still up, which meant she couldn’t leave. Not unless she wanted to go for the smoldering look.

The phone rang. Another beep cut in, signaling a call waiting. Francine glanced at the screen.

Hunter.

Her heart jumped. They were connected in ways she couldn’t explain. He must have felt her distress.

The line clicked.

“Hello, The Corner Shop. Can I help you?”

“Carl, I need you to close the shop and get over here. Something has come through, and it’s bad.”

Three Months Later

“You have a beautiful daughter…” The man glanced at her name tag. “Jenny? How old is she?”

Jessie narrowed her eyes, studying him.

He chuckled and held up his hands. “I’m not a pervert. I just couldn’t help noticing. She has startling eyes. Unusual. My grandmother calls them twilight eyes.”

“She’s blind.”

He turned to study the girl again. She sat quietly in the diner’s corner, out of the customers’ way. A piece of paper lay in front of her, and she appeared to be drawing.

“She’s always had a gift for pictures,” Jessie said. “I thought that would stop after she lost her sight, but it’s almost like she still sees the world, just differently than the rest of us.”

“She hasn’t always been blind?”

“No. It happened a few months ago. There was a fire.”

She refilled his glass and started to walk away, but he stopped her, touching her arm.

She flinched.

His fingers were cold.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “How old is she?”

“I don’t see why you need to know.”

“I’d say… eleven years old?”

She froze.

A gun protruded from beneath his coat.

Across the room, Heidi turned her head toward them.

He leaned close and whispered, “Jenny… or is it Jessie? How long did you think you could run?”

Her hands trembled. He gently took the pitcher from her before she could drop it and set it on the counter.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Hopefully the man who’s going to save your life.”

Heidi approached, holding out the paper she’d been drawing.

Jessie reached for it, but the girl stepped past her.

“It’s for him,” Heidi said.

The man took the paper and turned it so Jessie could see.

Drawn in thick red marker was a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

“Daddy,” Heidi said. “He’s coming.”

“He died in a fire three months ago,” Jessie said.

She had closed the diner early, chasing out every customer except the man. Julio had offered to stay, eyeing the stranger suspiciously, but Jessie insisted she would be fine and sent him home with pay for the full day.

“How did the fire start?” the man asked.

“I was going to leave him. I was afraid for Heidi. The night before…” Her voice caught.

Heidi sat in her corner again, no longer drawing. She stared at the door like she expected someone to walk in.

“He raped her?” the man asked quietly.

Jessie nodded. “If I hadn’t walked in when I did… she was crying, begging him to stop. He ran when I came in. He didn’t come back that night, but I knew he would eventually.”

She swallowed.

“So the next morning, I started packing. When he came home, he hit me. Said I wasn’t taking his little girl from him. My sister had given me a gun for protection. Somehow it was in my hand. I don’t even remember grabbing it. But when I realized what I was holding, I shot him.”

“Sounds like self-defense.”

“The bullet didn’t kill him. He went crazy. I shot him again. And again. He just kept coming. Then he knocked me out.”

She hugged herself.

“When I woke up, he was pouring gasoline all over the house. The gun was still in my hand. His back was to me. I shot him again, but he had a match. When the bullet hit him, he dropped it. The whole place went up in flames.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police? You’re wanted for murder.”

“They wouldn’t have believed me. He was one of theirs.”

“So you ran.”

“I thought we could start over. A new life. I had money saved. But then…”

“Your husband wasn’t so dead after all?”

She gave a hollow laugh. “He died. There’s no doubt about that. At least his body did. His spirit, or whatever evil was inside him…”

She trailed off.

“In a way, I’m relieved you found me. Maybe prison is safer.”

“I’m not a cop,” he said. “My name is Carl. I’m a paranormal investigator. My sister and I help people like you.”

The lights flickered, then they went out. It wasn't dark outside, but the shadows in the diner grew around them, blocking out the light from the windows. 

Jessie shot to her feet and grabbed Heidi.

“This way,” the man said, taking her hand as they ran toward the kitchen and the back door.

Behind them, the front glass door shattered.

A table screeched across the floor, blocking their path.

Then a voice drifted through the darkness, cold and familiar.

“Daddy’s home.”

If Wishes Were Zombies

<a href="https://www.vecteezy.com/free-png/zombie">Zombie PNGs by Vecteezy</a>

They don't tell you that the apocalypse is going to stink. I don't mean stink in the way we say homework stinks or, oh your boyfriend was cheating on you with Margo Thomas, that really stinks. I mean, it smells. Dead, rotting bodies, decomposing in the hot sun, kind of stink. I mean, it's bad enough that the dead live to eat us, but they smell. Real bad. They don't tell you that. Not in the movies where they make fighting a horde of the living dead look awesome, which by the way it is not. Certainly not in television shows, where young, presumably widowed mothers have time to screw their dead husband's best friend, in the middle of the woods no less, with zombies stumbling all over the place. I don't know about you, but I don't find the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh, a turn on. They don't tell you that in Hollywood, because sex sells, and if it smelled in the zombie apocalypse, they wouldn't have the sex. Maybe if they had, I wouldn't have been so eager to wish it into existence

Ok, technically I didn't mean to wish it into existence. I just meant to wish Margo Thomas out of existence, which I wouldn't have had to do if she didn't have her tongue down my boyfriend's throat. She did though, and the thought popped into my head before I could stop it ... "I wish Margo would be eaten by zombies." Next thing I knew, zombies came tearing down the hall and ate Margo. They also ate my boyfriend ... and that little nerdy kid who was supposed to be in 4th grade, but was so smart, he'd jumped ahead a few grades. I guess he wont be giving the valedictorian speech after all. Worst of all, they ate Fred, which is why I am in this predicament. Fred is the reason I was able to wish the ZA in the first place, and without him, I don't know how to fix it.

Fred is ... Was, a genie. I found him in my Grandma's attic. He was inside a little bottle. Not like the one on I Dream of Genie, but one of those little bottles alcohol comes in at an honor bar. I opened it and out popped Fred. After he finished thanking me, because he was, you know, really cramped in there, he ran down the list of rules. Can't make anyone fall in love, can't grant me unlimited wishes, can't do anything that would change established history, and can't bring anyone back from the dead. Apparently that one doesn't preclude zombies.

So here I am, hiding out in the girl's bathroom, wondering just how I am going to get Fred back, when the bathroom door bangs open. At first I thought it was more zombies, having sniffed me out, and I was praying that the stall door was stronger than it looked, when I heard my name shouted into the room. Crap. It was worse than zombies. It was my Grandma ... And by the sound of her voice, no stall door was going to keep her out.

"Grandma, what are you doing here?" I asked, cracking open the door.

"Where is Fred?" Grandma asked.

"Fred?" I stammered.

"Don't get cute," she said, meaning don't be stupid, because her voice indicated she thought I was anything but cute. "Mr. Stanford was just eaten by zombies, and Fred is not in his bottle. I can put 2 plus 2 together Samantha. Where. Is. Fred?

Mr. Stanford is ... Was Grandma's boyfriend. He was kind of funny and he made Grandma laugh, so now I had another reason to feel bad about the ZA. My Grandma's laugh was magic and always took the sad feelings away. If Mr. Stanford was zombie chow, there would be no more Grandma laughing. And that could be a scary thing.

"A zombie ate him," I said.

"Do you know which one?"

"Miss. Taylor. She is ... Was my math teacher."

"Then come on girl. We have to find her and get Fred back."

"But she ate him."

"When I was younger," Grandma said, "my dog Petie ate Fred. I had to wait a few days, but eventually he showed back up. A little smelly, but no worse for the wear. Well, Fred was no worse for the wear. Poor Petie had an upset tummy for a week."

"Why did Petie eat Fred?" I asked.

"Because he didn't like Fred. That Trixter had turned our world upside down with his wish granting, and Petie had had enough of him. I miss that dog. He was just a little terrior, but he didn't let his size stop him. He knew Fred was bad news. When he pooped Fred out, I plucked that Genie up and popped him into that bottle right quick, before he had a chance to resize himself."

So following Grandma, we left the girl's bathroom and went in search of Miss Taylor, my former math teacher. The halls were quieter than they were when I had fled to the bathroom. There was the occasional sob from a student being ... Digested by zombies. There was the occasional moan of delight, as a zombie dined on brains a la carte. But the chaos of an hour ago was gone, most of the student body either having escaped the school, or been turned into a meal.

We walked past several zombies, one of whom I recognized as Margo Thomas. She just leered at me, but didn't come at me. None of the zombies did.

"What am I, chopped liver?" I asked. "Why aren't they attacking us?"

"This was your wish," Grandma said, "though why you would wish zombies, is beyond me. You are immune."

"Then why aren't they attacking you?"

"They wouldn't dare," Grandma said, giving Tommy Jones a stern glance as we strode by. He did like any reasonable zombie would do when Grandma gave him that look ... He turned and stumbled away.

"I hope we don't have to follow Miss Taylor around for a week," I said. Also, I really don't want to find out what zombie poop looks like.

"I have a quicker way," Grandma said, and pulled a knife out of her purse.

"Grandma!"

"A lady should never go anywhere without protection," Grandma said.

Just then we turned the corner and came face to face with Miss Taylor. She didn't look to well. I know she's a zombie, but even for a zombie, she looked rather green.

"Looks like Fred isn't sitting too well with her," Grandma said, putting her knife away. "This might be quicker than I thought."

"What do you mean," I asked, but just then I found out what she meant. Miss Taylor bent over and vomited. She didn't just vomit, she erupted, spewing zombie bile out of her gorge.

"I am not touching that " I said.

The gelatinous mess was slowly spreading across the floor. It bubbled and gurgled, it even curdled, and then an arm popped out of the mess. Then another arm. They were detached limbs, but they were moving. The one arm lifted a finger, advising for us to wait, and then reaches into the goo and pulled out a head. It was Fred's! The. The other hand snapped it's fingers and Fred was standing before us, whole genie once again.

"Hello Fred," Grandma said.

"Martha, is that you?" Fred looked Grandma up and down and then said, "But you've gotten old."

"That tends to happen when one ages and is mortal."

"Wait a minute," Fred said, looking around in alarm. "Where is Petie."

"Not here," Grandma said. "Now I believe you have a wish to fix."

"I gave Sam just what she asked for," Fred said. "Zombies are Margo Thomas."

"Samantha!" Grandma said.

"She was kissing Jake." I said, sounding defensive.

"So then you wish her into a toad, you don't wish for zombies. Which reminds me, whatever happened to Lizzie Carmichael."

"Who?"

"She was my brother's girlfriend. She broke his heart."

"Your grandma wished her into a toad."

"Grandma!"

"Let's not dwell on the past," Grandma said. "Now go ahead Samantha. Make your next wish, but do so carefully, because this Trixter will twist it if he can."

"I resent that," Fred said.

"I wish you would bring everyone back." I said. Miss Taylor, Margo Thomas, Jake, that little nerdy boy ... And get rid of all the zombies.

"No can do." Fred said.

"What do you mean?" Grandma and I both asked.

"I can't bring anyone back from the dead. You don't get deader than zombies."

"He's right," I moaned. "That's one of the rules."

"He also can't change established history," Grandma said. "Past or future history. Brian Moore had a bright future and I am sure has a place in history. The ZA does not

"Who?" Fred asked.

"The little nerdy boy," I said.

"Samantha, think carefully and make your wish."

So I thought. I thought hard, about the past, and the future. And then I had it.

"I wish we could go back to earlier today," I said. "Before I made my wish."

And then just like that, I was standing in the hallway again before first period, watching Margo Thomas checking out my boyfriends tonsils. I forced all thought out of my head. I didn't want to accidentally wish something else, something worse than the ZA. I wasn't sure what that could be, but I'm sure there is a worse.

"Excuse me," Brian Moore said, pushing past me. I barely noticed him. I couldn't take my eyes off of Margo and Jake. It hurts, but not as much as it did the first time I saw them together. Then I wondered why I could remember everything that had happened.

"Make a wish," Fred whispered in my ear. "You still have one left. I can turn her into a toad."

"No. Grandma's right. I'm smarter than that. They aren't worth it."

"But you still have a wish."

Miss Taylor stood in her doorway, talking to Mr. Brown. The bell was going to ring any minute and we had a math test today. I was bad at math

"You can wish for an A in your test," Fred said.

I thought about it. Really, I did.

"It you could wish for riches. Your grandma struggles to take care of you. It would make life so much easier."

I thought about it. I thought about all the things I could wish for,but remembered something Grandma had said about worlds being turned upside down and Petie knowing Fred for who he was.

"I wish ..."

"Yes?"

"I wish you were back in that bottle in Grandma's attic."

And then Fred was gone.

I broke up with Jake. I got a C on my math test. And when I went home that day, Grandma had Mr. Stanford over for dinner, and Grandma spent the whole evening laughing. Somehow her laugh made my heart ache a little less. Then Mr. Stanford left and Grandma and I went up to the attic. Turns out, she remembers everything that happened too. We took the bottle outside and buried it as deep into the ground as we could. I'm sure one day, someone will dig Fred up and make a wish. But I'm not going to make it easy for them.

Ravenous-

Maggie stood outside the door, heart heavy. In hand, the gun she was going to use to end her husband’s life weighed even more. But what was the choice? Better her than someone else.

 Behind, Samuel cleared his throat. 

“Maggie, no one would blame you if you couldn’t …”

“I said I would do it and I will.” Straightening her shoulders, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Jake looked confused when she entered the room. He knew someone would be coming, but he didn’t expect this. 

“Maggie, what are you doing?” Then, seeing the gun, he fell silent. His eyes, at first confused, turned to anger. “They can’t honestly expect it to be you?” 

Setting the gun on the table beside the bed, Maggie wrapped her arms around her husband. “I volunteered,” she choked, fighting back tears. 

“Why?”

“Because I love you.” She kissed his forehead. “It needs to be me.” 

Jake laughed. “Babe, you’re strong, but this is a bit much—even for you.” 

Pushing him back, she lifted his shirt. Thick, blood-soaked bandages wrapped his abdomen. “I want to look at your wound.”

“Maggie?”

“If you’re going to die, I want to see the reason.” 

Sighing, Jake carefully unwrapped the wound in his side, revealing a large portion of flesh torn away by one of the monsters stalking their world. A similar wound was higher on his shoulder blade, and Maggie knew from the way his coat hung, slightly skewed, that his shoulder and arm were gone. She tried to remove the jacket but he wouldn’t let her. 

“Billy should’ve let ’em finish the job.”

“How can you say that?” Maggie snapped. “How could you expect him to leave you there and let them eat you?”

“I don’t want this … to be your last memory of me.”

“It won’t,” she whispered. Kissing his neck, she let her hand graze across his belly before curling her fingers into the thick hair trailing down his chest.

 “Maggie, what’re you doing?”

“We only have a little time before you change …” 

Groping at his jeans, she worked to unfasten the button. 

“Maggie!” Jake pushed her away with the arm he had left. “What the hell—?”

“If I’m going to shoot my husband before he turns into a zombie, the least I can do is make his last moments … pleasurable.”

“You’re insane.”

 Chuckling, Maggie leaned her head against her husband’s good shoulder and breathed in his scent. He smelled good, despite the blood seeping through the bandages. Stifling a sob, she kissed his neck, working her fingers into his hair as she pulled him closer.

 “What if I turn?”

“You won’t.”

“I might.”

“Then I’ll shoot you.”

Maggie guided Jake to bed and pushed him on the mattress before helping him struggle out of the jacket. Jake resisted at first, but Maggie always persuaded him to see things her way. Pressing her lips firmly against his, she tugged off the jacket, revealing the damaged stub. 

“I’m surprised they even bandaged it,”he said. “A waste of needed medical equipment.”

“Maybe you’re immune.”

“Right. You get bit, you turn into a biter.”

“Well, you haven’t yet.”Pulling her shirt off, Maggie reached for her husband’s hand, placing it against her right breast. 

“Maggie, I don’t think—”

“Shhh …don’t think. Right now I need you.”

Despite his protests, she felt the swell bulging against his zipper and grinned. He never could refuse. She tugged his jeans off, then settled back down as she took his cock into her hand. Stroking him, she felt his erection grow and guided him inside of her. Closing her eyes, she tried to pretend the world hadn’t gone to hell around them. 

They were newlyweds again, living in a small cramped apartment where the water was never warm enough for bathing and the neighbors argued until three in the morning …but they were happy. The dead didn’t come back to life and try to eat you. Jake wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him, thrusting hard. Maggie moaned with pleasure, his breath teasing her neck. 

“I love you,”she panted, tears mingling with sweat and blood oozing from the bandage. He moaned his pleasure in tune with her own, continuing to thrust up and into her. Pain shot through him as Maggie’s knee dug in his side. 

“I’m sorry,”Maggie cried, moving to let him up. Jake stopped her, pulling her back down. “Don’t be. I never want this moment to end.”

Groping at her breast, he squeezed her nipple. Maggie thrilled at his touch, gasping as she moved against him, this time trying to be more careful. Flicking his tongue across the taut nub, Jake pulled her nipple in his mouth. He cupped his hand around her breast and let go, taking hold of her ass and guiding her movements. 

Maggie stiffened as the orgasm seized her. She felt Jake stiffen, too, releasing his seed. His nose was pressed against her neck, his breathing labored. Then it changed, his pants coming more ragged. 

 He sniffed her ear, his fingers grasping her hair as a new hunger took hold. Suppressing the scream building inside, Maggie lifted the gun off the table and placed the barrel against his head. 

“I love you,”she whispered, and pulled the trigger.   

****   

She stayed with him for an hour, holding him. Sensing her need for privacy, no one came in to check. Finally, she dressed and opened the door. Samuel was waiting, along with three of the others. They would burn the body. There would be no chance of him coming back.

 “Are you alright?”

Maggie looked at Samuel. “I’ll be okay. I just need some time.”

“Take what you need. We’ll be moving on tomorrow. Chris says there’s a large horde heading this way. We should be okay until morning; they aren’t moving very fast. Unless the wind changes, they won’t pick up our scent.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Maggie took one last look at Jake’s body, and headed to the room she shared with two other women. It was empty …they sensed she needed to be alone. Curling up on the bed, she slept, dreaming about happier times and a baby. When she woke up she felt her stomach. She didn’t know how, but she knew. She was pregnant.

   ****  

 It had been a week since the farmhouse. Everyone was used to picking up and leaving on a moment’s notice. She wasn’t used to the strange swell in her belly. The baby grew fast. She wore baggie clothes, but she worried she might not be able to hide her condition much longer. She sat next to the camp fire, fighting nausea. 

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,”Maggie said, smiling. Barbara had been henpecking ever since Jake, and she wished the woman would leave her alone. 

“You look a little under the weather. I can talk to Sam …see if there’s any medicine.”

“I just need some quiet,”Maggie snapped, and regretted her tone when she saw the hurt in the older woman’s eyes. “I’m sorry …it’s just been …difficult.”

“That’s okay, honey. I do tend to mother a person to death …I mean—”

Maggie stood and glanced around. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”Seeing Barbara about to protest, she held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” 

Stepping in the woods, Maggie moved behind a tree and watched the others, making sure no one was going to come and check on her. Barbara surveyed the tree line, worried, but didn’t move. Samuel was talking to Billy about something and hadn’t noticed she’d left …some observant leader. 

She blamed Samuel for Jake’s death. He’d sent him scouting with only a boy for backup. That Billy had managed to kill the zombies attacking Jake, without getting bit himself, was a miracle. 

A breeze blew her way, carrying a scent that made her stomach rumble. She’d stopped eating the rations two days ago. Her baby craved something else. This worried her, but she wasn’t about to tell Samuel. If he knew, he would force her to terminate. This child was all she had left of Jake. She would do what she had to. 

She followed the scent to a rabbit hiding in the brush. It leaped into the open when she approached, but Maggie was quick, tackling the animal before it could escape.

 She ripped its throat open with her teeth, swallowing whole chunks of meat. When done, she followed a narrow path to a stream, and washed off the blood. Removing her shirt, she soaked it in the water, scrubbing at the stains, hoping in the dark, no one would notice the wetness.

 “Well, what have we here?”

Maggie froze at Samuel’s voice. “Ummm …washing up.”

“I can see that. But you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“It’s safe. Chris and Bradley secured the area before they let us set up camp.”

“Rules are rules. Wouldn’t want what happened to Jake happen to you, too.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that,”she said, fighting back anger. She suspected he’d been hoping something would happen to Jake. He never made it a secret he wanted Maggie. Now she didn’t have a husband standing in his way. 

Looking over her shoulder at Samuel, her stomach growled. Baby was hungry. And she felt another desire building too. She’d never been with any man besides her husband but as her appetite for raw meat increased, so did her craving for sex. She wondered if the two were related. 

Turning to him she smiled, dropping her arms and leaving her breasts exposed. “Of course with you here, nothing is going to happen.”

“Well, well …”Samuel’s hand strayed towards his zipper. Maggie made quick work of his jeans, dropping them around his ankles as she fell to her knees. Inspecting his manhood, she was impressed. She pulled him into her mouth, sucking on his cock while she dug her fingers into his ass. 

Bobbing her head back and forth, she took him in deeper, fighting the hunger. Best to take him at the height of his orgasm. When he let loose his seed, she closed her teeth, biting off his cock in one swift chomp. Samuel tried to scream but nothing came. Maggie spit the severed member from her mouth and leaped on him, ripping his throat open before a scream found its way out of his lungs. 

She ate until full. This time, she didn’t bother washing herself off. The blood could be explained. She ran back to camp screaming zombies attacked her and Samuel. 

Barbara held her while the men searched the woods. There were a few undead not far from the stream; the dead were always around. They killed them, and in the morning moved on. Barbara refused to let Maggie out of her sight.

Maggie was okay with that. The baby was growing rapidly and she wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy much longer.

 That was okay, too. The little tyke liked Barbara’s smell …and he’d be needing some food.

No Zombies Allowed

by Lisa McCourt Hollar


They stood in a row; Moon, Walker and the un-named grave. In the light of day it was a curiosity. Tonight would be another matter. Any living visitor remaining after dusk would see the three, not quite dead occupants of the graves rising from their place of rest.

Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft stood within the shadows as the last straggler left. “It is time,” she called, stepping like mist into the waning light.

There was a slight rumbling and a hand thrust up from beneath the first grave and then another from the second. Clearing her throat, Hecate pointed a finger at the third, unmoving tomb, her voice warning that this would be the last call. “It is time.”

The earth shifted and the occupant of the grave lifted his head. “I’m not feeling well. I think I will stay in.”

“I can keep you there permanently if you wish.” The threat understood, the un-dead servant pushed his way out of the dirt and joined the others.

“We have much work to do this Hallows Eve. Hades grows impatient. This world has forgotten the gods and he wishes to remind them of our presence.”

“Sheesh, she’s cranky,” Tobin mumbled, falling in line behind Walker and Moon.

“Quiet, or she’ll hear you.” Moon stopped to pick up his arm, which had fallen off, grinning sheepishly at Walker. "Remember Stone? He called her a wart nosed old hag. I thought she was going to explode.”

“Haven’t thought of him in a long time,” Walker said. “I wonder how he likes being a toad?”

“Last I heard, he found a princess to kiss him and now he’s living in a palace.”

“Huh, some zombies get all the luck.”

“Enough talking back there,” Hecate called out. “Here’s the plan, we need to wreak havoc.”

“Wreaking havoc is what we do,” Tobin said, winking at the other two ghouls.

“We also reek,” Moon said, lifting his arms and sniffing his armpits.

“You’re such a freak…”

“Enough!” Hecate glared at the three, cutting Walker off before the servant could finish his sentence. Moon and Tobin snorted, earning an angry glare from the goddess. “That will be quite enough. One more outburst from either of you…”

“You’ll send us up the creak…” said Moon.

“I think I’d much prefer a jeep…” said Walker.

“Oh, lookie here, I’ve found some creeps."

The three zombie’s stopped, slack jawed, staring at the figure who had stepped into their path. Dressed in a black robe with a hood that covered his head and holding a scythe in one hand and a skull in the other, the creature was the very image of death.

Hecate sighed, “What are you doing here, Grim.?"

“My job. Those three there, they have to go back.”

“Up down, up down… I wish they gods would make up their minds,” Tobin moaned, turning and heading back to his grave.

“Stop,” Hecate hissed. Pointing a finger at the ground, thick weeds came up out of the earth, wrapping tightly around the zombie’s legs.

“Careful,” Tobin said, “not too tight… oh great, you’ve done it now.”

Walker winced in sympathy as his friends ankle crumbled, while Moon, chuckled. Hecate pointed her finger again, mending the ankle and reattaching it where it belonged.

“A little crooked, but not bad,” Tobin said, testing it out.

“Go away,” Hecate said, turning her finger towards the Grim Reaper.

“Can’t do that, Doll; Khronos is being a real tight ass with his No Zombies Allowed rule. I have to round up all undead and put them where they belong.”

“Did he just call me Doll? No one calls me Doll.”

“Yeah, well I was trying to be nice, but now that you mention it, my mother called, she wants her face back.”

“Speaking of Medusa, how is the old hag doing?”

“She’s dating Khronos; you already knew that though or you wouldn’t be trying to make my life so difficult. Three months.. it took me three months to round up the all the zombies. Most of them didn’t want to come willingly. And then there were the bribes. Everyone wants to make a deal with death. I don’t make deals."

“Really, because that’s not what I heard.” Hecate’s smile spread thin across her face.

“What are you getting at,” Grim asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Khronos doesn’t really seem like your mother’s type…”

“You know my mother, every guy is her type… until they turn to stone. She can’t afford to be choosy. Now be a dear and tell your goons to go back where they came from, before I get testy."

“See, here’s the thing Grim, I woke up tonight in the mood for a little Halloween havoc. Life has been dull lately. How about you let me have my fun and I don’t tell your mom how you agreed to pimp her out to your boss. When the night is over, these three go back to bed and you can tell your buddies you survived a run in with me. You know, I can get pretty testy myself.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen. Come on you three, I guess we do this the hard way.”

“I guess we do,” Hecate said. Pointing her finger once more, the ground rumbled bringing forth more of the dead. Old friends greeted each other, family members fell into each other’s arms and old feuds resumed.

“Does it matter who shot the other first,” Hecate shouted, intervening between two brothers, each with a bullet hole in the chest. “It was a duel, you both are equally quick.”

“But who won?” The elder brother asked.

“No one, you both died… idiots.” Touching the two siblings on the arm, Grim sent them back to their graves, dissolving their bodies into dust. Looking around, he moaned, “Three months to get things under control and this broad ruins it all in one night. You two… get a room.”

Reaching for two lovers, Grim pulled them apart, sending their ashes soaring through the air, where their spirits could join together on the wind. “Never say I’m not a romantic.”

“You can’t stop them all,” Hecate said, directing a group of small children towards the town. “It’s Halloween kids, go get some treats.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’m kind of hungry myself,” one of the recently revived said, “ I wonder if anyone has brains on the menu.”

Stepping in front of the zombie, a former mayor of the town who was known for his many appetites, Grim shot the goddess an angry glare. “Hecate, this has got to end.”

“It’s not right, Grim. They don’t care about us anymore. I used to be somebody. Now… now Khronos has me announcing the weather on God’s News Channel. I’m a damn weather girl.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ve got a poster of you hanging on my wall, wearing that red shirt that shows off your…”Hecate tossed a lightning bolt his way.

“I was going to say your eyes! They’re a beautiful shade of crimson.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well I know looking at it makes me feel better. Hey, easy there!” Grim stepped to the side, narrowly missing getting singed. The grass where he’d been standing was smoldering, leaving a smoky odor to the air.

“The job doesn’t even pay my rent. I live on Mount Olympus you know… only the best for the goddess of witchcraft. I used to get offerings… virgin sacrifices; now I’m lucky if someone sends a prayer my way. I had to take a second job to make ends meet.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, at least you have your own place. I live with my mom. Do you know how many times she’s accidently turned me to stone?”

“That would be a problem,” Hecate agreed.

The two grew quiet, listening to the screams coming from the town. “Three months,” Grim moaned, “and now I have to start all over. At least you get a day off here and there. If I take a day it turns into Armageddon.”

“Does she really turn you into stone?”

“Yeah. She says it’s an accident. The photo album says otherwise. She stuck rabbit ears on me for Easter.”

“Well how about we make a deal?”

“I told you I don’t do deals.”

“Then round them all up yourself.” Hecate raised her finger, prepared to summon more dead.

“Wait… what do you want?”

“I have an extra room. Really, it’s a large closet, but I’m not using it and the extra income would be nice. It would get you out of your mother’s basement.

“You’ll send them back to their graves?”

“If I must… but don’t you miss the old days?”

Grim thought about it a moment, then answered, “Yeah, I kind of do. What the hell, I suppose a few hours won’t hurt. Khronos and my mother are taking a ride down the Styx…Charon offers a lovers discount and a guided tour that takes most of the night. Just make sure everyone is back where they belong by morning.”

“I promise. Where are you going?”

“Home to pack; hey, does this make us…”

“Don’t even think it, Grim. Not even in your dreams… and Grim…”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Make sure you leave the damn poster behind.”