excerpts: the last of this year’s student zombie tales

Posted: May 12, 2014 in Dark Silo News
Beau G

Beau G

We’ve been posting zombie fiction written by student writers. Here are two final excerpts for your enjoyment. Beau G is a student at Polaris Expeditionary School—a school of choice option for Fort Collins, Colorado students. The following excerpt from his zombie short story focuses on a death scene. Well staged, horribly…executed.

Chet and I rushed to the back door. We could hear them around the corner, still shrieking in agony from the sound of the grenade. We had to get out fast; there were definitely more of those things on the way.

“Go, I’ll cover you” I whispered. Chet nodded and swung the door open and stepped out. I followed him step for step, moving along the edge of the old, brick building to the opposite corner. From there we could see the exit. Chet started towards it, moving like a bat out of hell. Just as he left the safety of the wall, he tripped, face first into the dead grass, and let out a grunt of surprise. I ran past him, booking it to the exit. I screamed at him to get up. He was stunned. He just sat there like he was rooted in the ground, staring up at the sun. Prowlers came around the corner, faster than they ever had before, trampling one another to find meat.

Suddenly, Chet snapped back into consciousness, but it was too late to get up. Not thinking, he pulled the trigger frantically, hitting one in the kneecap, but it kept crawling towards him. Its legs separated from its torso at the hip as it tore towards Chet. Chet knew he was finished. He looked over to me and gave me one last nod and I nodded back, tears in my eyes. As the crawler began feasting on his leg, he let out a bloodcurdling scream that seemed to even make the fiends hesitate, if only for a moment.

He shouted, pulling the pin out of his last grenade. I turned around and ran. I couldn’t stand to see it.

But I was too late. I could see more creeps running towards the building, coming up both ways on the road. That’s when I gave up; but I wasn’t about to get eaten.

One in the chamber… That’s enough.

“Fuck.”

Simon MSimon M. is also a student at Polaris. Simon’s take on the zombie genre uses an old trope—the introduction of danger as a relationship begins to bloom. But Simon’s tale of a teenage ne’er-do-well and the object of his attention has a twist:

A few days after the trial, I started to feel a little guilty about what I’d done. All I had to do was give them a few alligator tears and a sob story about how I was lonely and some bad childhood BS and I was home-free.  Suckers. The looks on their stupid faces told me exactly when I had them around my finger. After that, I felt much calmer. Still, there was still this guilty feeling in my gut that made me question my morals. I shut those morals up with a cheeseburger to celebrate my victory.

The court had “suggestions,” of course. They gave me a dog to help me gain control over my emotions and make me feel less lonely. I had to play the part if I was to convince anyone, so I acted like I was oh-so-happy to be receiving a brand new puppy. The truth was I hated the thing. I detested it. It crapped everywhere. Puppies are high maintenance, and there was already myself to worry about. But most of all, I hated it for the way it could make me do it’s bidding  with it’s droopy sad eyes.

But as time passed, I started to like the damn thing more and more. I even took to calling it Cody. Soon, I didn’t mind cleaning up after him so much. Then one morning, I woke up and I couldn’t find him. I stressed for hours until I realized that he’d just gone into the garden to play. The sense of relief I felt told me that I loved him, I loved my dog Cody.

As Cody grew, I started to notice a change in myself as well. I was less aggressive. I had more energy, I’d even gotten a job. In fact, it was while I was at work that I starting hearing the reports about people getting sick and attacking other people in the streets. I heard from one of my co-workers that the CDC had been called to investigate. That was the day they sent us all home early.

When I got home, Cody was waiting for me, trying desperately to jump into my arms like a little Scoobydoo, I ignored him and turned on the television. Every channel was either down, or issuing emergency report saying to stay in your home due to attacks being made by the LIVING DEAD! Those words sounded like some pre-Halloween prank put on by bored newscasters, but as more and more channels went dead, I had to entertain the possibility that the stories were true.

Sensing that something was wrong, Cody nudged his nose under my hand. I stood and briskly walked into my kitchen, grabbing all thing canned foods I had, as well as a bowl and can opener, then grab a couple of bottles of water, a flashlight and some batteries and some food for Cody. As I exited the kitchen and headed for the door to the basement, I heard some glass shatter and a bloodcurdling scream come from the next door neighbors. I peered out my window just in time to see a woman’s face peeled off her skull. A serpent of fear coiled itself up my spine. All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, I thought I would faint or vomit—or both. I shook myself out of it, and in a shaky voice, called for Cody.

Together we descended into the basement.

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