365 Days of Zombie: Day 7

Out of the Frying Pan

Stan climbed out onto the window ledge and then reached inside to help Gloria.

“I can’t do it, Stan. I can’t.” She pulled her hand away and looked down towards the ground. Those things that used to be her neighbors hadn’t looked up, but if she fell they would be on her like white on rice. She shivered at that analogy and tried not to think of herself as food. Lord knew those zombies did.

Zombies! That’s what they were, weren’t they? Stan could call them crazy assed people all he wanted, but that’s what it was. She’d known it would happen one of these days… even joked about how she was prepared, but hell… who could honestly prepare for something like this? She was just a single mother with a teenage daughter. She didn’t even own a gun, even though she kept talking about getting one.

“Come on, Gloria,” Stan hissed, holding out his hand. If the fire doesn’t get you, then those things will find their way up here.”

Downstairs she could hear the zombies stumbling around. He was right, they hadn’t learned to use the steps yet, but once they figured it out, they would. Listening she thought she heard the bottom step creak. It was the one that woke her when Rayne had tried to sneak out of the house to meet that boy. Her eyes widened and she grabbed Stan’s hand.

“Slow down just a bit, sweetheart,” he laughed, though the fear in his voice told her it was more nervous laughter than anything.

“Shit, slow down. Those things are trying out the steps now.”

“Okay, but if we fall off the ledge they still get us… only we break our bones and don’t stand a chance.”  Steadying her on the ledge, Stan looked up and pointed. “I can reach the edge of the roof and pull myself up. Then I’ll reach down and pull you.”

“You’re joking, right? Stan, you can’t even do chin ups, how are you going to get up there and pull me up? Wouldn’t it be safer… and easier to climb down the trellis?”

“Sure, Gloria. If you want to get eaten.”

Gloria glanced down and then wished she hadn’t. Leaning against the side of the house she hung on, trying to forget that there was nothing between her and the ground except for air. “Well,” she said through her teeth, “They haven’t seen us yet. Maybe if we are real quiet, we can get down there and run before they see us.”

“Run where? If they are all over our block, then they could be all over town.”

“To the school. I need to get Rayne.”

“That’s three miles away! Look, if we go up onto the roof we can jump from there to the garage. Climb in through the window, get the car and we’re good to go.”

“There’s just one problem with your theory. My keys are inside the house.”

“What the hell did you leave your keys inside for,” Stan hissed through clenched teeth.

“Well I didn’t exactly think I had time to run to the kitchen and grab my purse. There was a zombie coming in through the window.”

“Maybe I can hotwire it. Don’t,” he said, shooting her an angry glare before she could ask how he knew how to hotwire a car. “Let’s just say I haven’t always been the great guy you know me to be now.”

“You don’t say.”

There was a crash in the bedroom and Gloria risked a peak through the window.

“They in there?” Stan asked.

“Uh huh. And staring right at me. Come on, Stanley, get a move on it!”

Stan gripped the edge of the roof and pulled. He thought for sure he would have adrenaline on his side. He’d seen documentaries about people that had done amazing things when spurred on by adrenaline, like lifting cars off of people. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t lift himself high enough to get a leg over the roof. Then he felt his fingers beginning to slip.

“Stanley!” Gloria tried to move to the other side of the window, but Stanley was still there, in her way. The creature that she recognized as her neighbors nineteen year old son lurched towards the window, at first with a few uncertain steps, but then a bit more steady and now he was rushing towards her like she was an all you can eat buffet.

A side of liver and a nice juicy kidney coming right up, Gloria thought. Then from behind the zombie, Rayne ran into the room. Gloria’s heart sank, realizing her daughter must have joined the dead. But if she were a zombie, she wasn’t acting very zombie like. In her hand she held a tire iron and she lifted it, splattering the creature’s brains across her special order bed spread.

“Mom!”

Rayne ran to the window and reached out, helping her mother back into the room.

Gloria hugged her daughter and then saw someone else stumble into the room. He had dark hair and eyes that seemed to be alive, but he was covered with blood.

“Behind you,” Gloria shouted.

Rayne turned, raising the tire iron and then stopped, laughing with relief. “This is Saul, mom. He’s a friend.”

Gloria couldn’t help but notice the sour expression on his face when Rayne introduced him as a friend. She wondered if there was something the boy felt that Rayne didn’t.

“Help!”

The voice came from outside the window and Gloria realized that she’d left Stan hanging… literally. “Oh my God, Stan!”

Stanley tried to hang on but he felt his hold loosening. It was a losing battle. Below him he heard the crazy cannibals groaning and could feel their beady eyes on him. His fingers, finally losing the battle, let go of the side and he began to fall backwards. He hoped it would be a painless death. But then arms closed around his waist and he felt himself being pulled inside.

“Oh Stanley, I am so sorry!” Gloria launched herself at him as soon as he was in the window, covering his face with kisses.

365 Days of Zombie: Day 4

Zombie Court

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

 

Judge Radcliff stepped into the courtroom and sat down behind his bench. Everyone waited as he put his glasses on and read the papers in front of him. That’s the way the judge liked it. He hated to have to slam his gavel and yell “Order in the court!” There was a time when he liked that kind of excitement, but now when he was so close to retirement he preferred the easy cases. By the looks of it, this wasn’t going to be one of them.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, looking up, “the defendant is accused of eating his neighbor’s face?”

“In a very brutal attack,” Meganne Lawson, the defense attorney said.

“Well he ate his face off. I guess you don’t get more brutal than that.”

“Allegedly ate his face off,” the defense attorney said.

“Allegedly,” Judge Radcliff grunted. He hated it when people spoke out of turn. Squinting, he looked at the defendant. The man looked, well, putrid. There was also an odor of rotting meat  and a look about him that reminded the judge of a feral dog. He was glad to see the man in chains. Clearing his throat he addressed the defendant.  “Well, we are just here today to determine if there is just cause to take this to trial. I am first going to have the charges read into evidence. You will answer the charges guilty or not guilty… or if you choose you can plead no contest and I will make a decision at this time based upon the evidence. Do you understand what I’m saying, son?”

“Guh”

“Speak up when talking to the court. I didn’t catch that.” Judge Radcliff looked towards the court recorder and shook his head.

“Guhhhhhh!”

“If you’ll allow, your honor,” Mark Lawson said, putting his arm on his client, “my client can’t speak yes, no, or no contest.”

“Does he speak English?”

“Yes, he does,” the prosecutor said.

“He did at one time,” the attorney said. “He no longer does.”

“Guuuuhhhh”

The judge looked over his glasses at the defendant. He was drooling at the mouth and sniffing his attorney. “Is he retarded? Can he assist in his defense?”

“He’s not retarded,” the prosecutor said.

“He’s not alive.” the defense attorney, glared at the prosecutor. Judge Radcliff shook his head. The prosecutor and the defense attorney were married. It would probably be a chilly evening at home.

“Your honor,” Meganne Lawson said, “clearly the defendant is moving around. The dead do not walk... or hit their heads on tables”

“They do if they are zombies,” Mark said, pulling out a stack of papers to present into evidence.

“What do you have there?” Judge Radcliff asked, staring disapprovingly at the client as he continued to bang his head. He didn’t like the way the proceedings were going. The talk of zombies belonged on late night horror shows, not in a court of law.

“Statements from the defendant’s doctor stating that he died a week ago, the coroner’s report, a statement from the undertaker and pictures taken at his funeral. Mr. Wilcox is no longer among the living and therefore not bound by our laws.”

“Is there precedent?”

“No your honor,” both Lawson’s said at the same time.

“Your honor, clearly the doctor made a mistake.” The prosecutor said.

“Guuuuhhh…. Uuuugggg,” the defendant said, leaning towards his attorney. Mark Lawson stepped a bit farther from his clients reach and turned towards the prosecutor.

“And the coroner? He performed the autopsy.  Mr. Wilcox was an organ donor so his heart and liver were removed, along with several other organs. His brain however had shown deterioration and was considered unsuitable for use. It is his brain that has reanimated Mr. Wilcox.” The attorney held out the paperwork for the bailiff.

“You say he has no organs in his body at all?” The judge looked over the paperwork. Ms. Lawson, there is a photo included. I can see for myself that the defendant is cut open, his organs on the table next to him. How do you explain this?”

“Your honor, there are many people that walk among us that have been said not to have a heart.  That does not mean they are not alive. For death to be determined, there has got to be no brain activity.”

“That is not true,” her husband interrupted. The judge shuddered. It was going to be a truly cold night in the Lawson home. “They only have to prove that there is no detectible brain activity. My client has none.”

“He has some.” The prosecutor held out a paper for the bailiff to take. “At my request, an EEG was performed on the defendant. Though barely detectible, there is some activity at the hypothalamus.”

“And not able to be detected by any other machine. He met the legal definition of death, your honor. An EEG is not required for determination.”

“It should be.”

“Meganne, you cannot change the law,” Mark said. “My client is legally dead. You have no right prosecuting him.”

“He ate a man’s face!”

“GUUUUUHHHH!”

“Order in the court,” Judge Radcliff yelled, banging his gavel.

“GUUUUUHHHH!” Ignoring the judge, the defendant pulled against his restraints, leaning hungrily towards the prosecutor. In her anger she had crossed the room and was standing nose to nose with her husband. There was sexual tension between the two of them and Judge Radcliff wondered if it might prove to be more steamy than chilly in their bedroom that night.

“I said, ORDER IN THE COURT!” Judge Radcliff continued pounding his gavel but no one seemed to be paying attention. While the prosecutor and defense attorney seemed to be locked in some kind of silent foreplay, the defendant worked to free himself from the restraints. The judge winced as the man’s skin flayed, revealing muscle and bone.

They bailiff moved to subdue the defendant, but quickly returned to the bench when he was nearly bitten. Judge Radcliff was at a loss as to what to do; he had clearly lost control. It was at that moment that the doors to the courtroom banged open and a figure in black entered the room.

“Excuse me, I’m here for Bob Wilcox.”

The defendant stopped his struggle and turned, as did the two Lawson’s. Judge Radcliff stared, his jaw hanging open.

“There you are, Bob. You are in a lot of trouble. Khronos has been yelling at me for an hour straight and I’m late for dinner with Hecate.”

“Who are you?” Judge Radcliff asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m not used to dealing with the living, just the dead. My name is Grim. Grim Reaper.” He held out a boney hand, presenting identification and a white form to the bailiff.”

“What is this?” The judge asked.

“Papers releasing Mr. Wilcox into my custody. He was supposed to have been delivered to Hades. I put him on the boat with Charon. I tried explaining this to Khronos that it was Charon that lost him, but he still insisted I ‘do my job and collect him.’  Always more difficult once they’ve turned.”

“I told you he was dead,” Mark said. Meganne just made a face and waited to see what the judge would do.

“Well, it would seem I have no jurisdiction over the case,” he said, looking over the paperwork.

“But your honor, he killed a man.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Lawson,” the judge said, “but it’s out of my hands. I know this is your first murder case. You’ll get another one, I’m sure.”

“Come on, Bob.” Grim said, taking hold of the restraints.

The former defendant sniffed at Meganne, a look of disappointment crossing his face. “Guuuuhhh.”

‘Down boy,” Grim said, “I agree, she looks delicious, but you can’t go around eating people. At least not without permission.”

“Well, it looks like this is over,” Judge Radcliff said, once the Reaper was gone. Lifting his gavel he brought it down.  “Case dismissed. Now if you’ll excuse me, the missus has an apple pie waiting for me at home.” He stopped and sniffed the air. “Someone get the cleaning lady in here.”

The End