Gruesomely Grimm Zombie Tales Part 7

When Tommy came home and was anxious to see his wife, Diedre told him that the young woman was ill and that she was a nurse that had been called in to help. "Keep quiet, she needs plenty of sleep."

Tommy thought nothing of it and made himself comfortable on the couch until morning. He went in to check on her and see if she needed anything. The first thing she said was this nasty joke that had something to do with putting babies in a blender feet first in order to see their expression.

"What the h.e.l.l's wrong with her?" Tommy asked Diedre who had rushed in and shoo'd him out of the room.

"She's delirious," Diedre said. "She'll be better soon."

That night one of the youngsters of the compound was playing around by the grate where the river exited the place through the wall. A voice called to him: "What is Tommy doing now?

Sleepest thou, or wakest thou?"

The boy knew there was something weird about how the voice spoke, but he couldn't place it. He'd heard somebody recite some poetry one day using funny words like that. Then the voice spoke again: "Are there strangers afoot in his house?"

The kid thought it over and tried to mimic the style: "Yay, an old hag with a face like a mouse."

The voice asked: "And what of his child sweet?"

The boy answered: "He's in his cradle fast asleep."

Then a familiar face pressed against the grate. The boy recognized Penelope right away. She was about to speak when the moan of a nearby zombie made her take off. He watched her dash into some woods with a few of the slow-moving undead on her heels.

He snuck back to his house and considered saying something, but he was worried that he would get in trouble for being out at night when he wasn't supposed to be. That's the logic young people use sometimes. Still, he continued to sneak out the next few nights. On the third he heard the voice again. This time, there was no poetic phrasing.

"Tell Tommy that I'm out here and he needs to come get me. And let him know that my b.i.t.c.h of a stepmother and her s.k.a.n.ky daughter are in there, and that they did this to me," Penelope cried.

Tommy came on the run and hauled Penelope back over the wall. He asked why she hadn't tried to get in during the day. Penelope made some weak excuse about it being too risky to try and get past the zombies in the daylight. Tommy didn't care, he was just happy to have his wife back and he came up with a plan to deal with Diedre and Christina.

When they returned home, he told Penelope to stay hidden in the attic until the baby's christening on Sunday. After he laid out his plan, she agreed.

After the christening, Tommy casually posed the question to Diedre, "What should be done to a person if they were to kidnap you and toss you over the wall into the river and amongst the hungry zombies?"

Not being very bright, Diedre answered hastily, "They should be shut up in a barrel studded with nails and rolled down the hill into the water."

"You've just p.r.o.nounced your own sentence," Tommy proclaimed.

He sent for just such a barrel and Diedre was shoved in with her daughter. Just before the lid was hammered into place, one of the dwarfs showed up and dropped a fully animated zombie's head into the barrel. The screams could still be heard for some time as it rolled down the hill and floated away.

14.

Self-Centered Based on: Die drei Spinnerinnen Before that terrible day when that first zombie rose and started the apocalypse, there was this girl who, while quite beautiful, never lifted a finger to help others. Nothing her mother said did a bit of good. On the day that the apocalypse really got in full swing with legions of undead starting to ma.s.s in every city in the world, the mother finally lost it. She took all the power cords for the computer and television and confiscated the girl's cell phone. This sent the girl into a tantrum. She yelled and screamed and wept.

It just so happened that a National Guard detachment was clearing the neighborhood, evacuating everybody to a nearby FEMA shelter. Some of the soldiers heard the ruckus. Unfortunately, so did a pack of nearby zombies. The soldiers went up to the house thinking that the trouble was inside and didn't see what was coming up from behind.

"Open up, ma'am," one of the men called as he pounded on the door.

The mother flung open the door and found herself looking down the barrel of an M16. While they were asking what was going on, the pack of zombies stumbled and staggered closer.

The mother was embarra.s.sed to admit that her daughter was so lazy that she wouldn't lift a finger to help pack for their impending evacuation. All she wanted to do is chat with and text her friends.

"I can't get her to leave," the woman blurted. "She is so concerned for her friends that she is trying to make certain everybody she knows is finding their way to safety."

Meanwhile, the zombies crept closer.

"Well," said the squad leader, "we can't have people staying behind. Perhaps you should let us take her into custody. I think, with situations being what they are, we can perhaps find a position for her in our communications center."

The mother was relieved and stepped aside to let the soldiers in. The girl looked up at the soldiers who stood in her living room bristling with weapons.

"We're bringing you back with us to HQ," the squad leader said. "Your mom says you are pretty good with social networking. Well, right now we can use every bit of help out there. We'll set you up with a top of the line system and have you get out updates and advisories to those in the outlying area."

As they were walking outside, the mob of zombies that had been closing in attacked. It was b.l.o.o.d.y, violent, and chaotic. The soldiers were swarmed and fell under the onslaught. The squad leader shoved his radio in the girl's hands as he pushed her back into the house.

"Warn HQ!" he screamed as a wall of arms and hands wrapped around him and pulled him into the mob.

The girl slammed the doors on the screams of the dying and the moans of the undead. She ran upstairs and didn't stop until she climbed into the attic and pulled up the fold-down ladder. She sat; alone, afraid, and in the darkness. It didn't seem as if she'd ever be able to stop crying. And that is where she stayed for days. She tried to use the radio, but between the darkness and the mult.i.tude of b.u.t.tons and switches, she really had no idea how to operate the giant handset.

On the third day, as dehydration and desperation set in, she pushed down the hatch that led to the attic just enough to peek out in the hallway. It was clear and she climbed down. She hurried into the bathroom and saw what a mess she'd become. She was relieved to discover that the water still ran and that it was still hot. After a quick shower, she spent an hour on her hair and another on her make-up.

When she was done, she finally went to her bedroom and looked out on the neighborhood. It was a disaster area. Bodies...parts of bodies...garbage. The streets were littered with everything imaginable, and a few things that weren't. Was that a refrigerator? Then she saw three women coming down the road. The first looked to have had her entire foot ripped off. The second seemed to have no lower lip. There was a thick flap of meat draped down over the b.l.o.o.d.y chin. The third seemed mostly okay, and it took the girl a moment to realize that she was missing the thumb on her left hand.

Of course the girl had been so self-absorbed in the days before, that she was unaware of what was happening in the wide world. While it was obvious that there was something wrong, the girl had no idea what. She thought it had something to do with crazy people, but these three women didn't look crazy. If anything, they looked a bit slow.

So, when they stopped outside her window, she tapped on the gla.s.s to get their attention. The three women looked up. There was something about their eyes that creeped the girl out, but she was a bit desperate. She was hungry and lonely and scared.

The three women stumbled across the yard and, by the time she got downstairs to the door, she could hear them scratching and pawing. That seemed just a bit weird. She flung open the door and staggered back a few steps when she got not only a close-up look...but a whiff as well.

The three staggered in grasping for the young la.s.s. They dragged her to the ground and the first tore at her stomach, eventually ripping the soft skin of her belly open and drawing out a strand of intestine. The second was drooling all over the pile of steaming guts, long ropes of it hung from the remnants of that ripped lower lip. The third plunged the nub of its thumb into the girl's ever-widening abdominal hole and tore it wider so that the three could grab handfuls and stuff their blood-smeared faces.

A few men hiding out in the bas.e.m.e.nt of a nearby house heard the screams. Despite the risk to their lives, they emerged with a variety of weapons, including some that they had discovered scattered about when that squad of soldiers had been taken out by a bunch of zombies a few days ago.

They followed the sounds to a house just two streets over. The first thing that they noticed when they reached the open door was a pile of still-steaming guts. It made them all gag just a little. Then they saw the three zombies hunched over a body, feasting on the tender bits.

They moved in quick with baseball bats and the like and quickly beat down the zombies. When they were done, one of the men held back the others when he recognized who it was on the floor.

"Guys, it's that stuck-up little ginch that used to strut up and down the streets like her s.h.i.t didn't stink," the one man said to the others.

"Oh yeah," another agreed. "Didn't her mom have like two jobs or something just so that spoiled little b.i.t.c.h could have whatever she wanted while lazing about and not lifting a finger?"

"I once saw her elbow past that sweet little old lady, Miss Magillacutty, in the coffee shop," said another.

"She never lifted a finger for anybody but herself," said a third.

"Should we finish her off?" asked a fourth.

"I got a better idea," said the first. He pulled a wicked looking blade from its sheath and hacked off the arms and legs, finishing just as the girl began to twitch and open her undead eyes.

"Now she can be just as useless in undeath as she was in life," the second man said.

From then on, there would be no question that the formerly self-centered brat would never have to lift a finger for anybody.

15.

Timmy and Ginny Based on: Hansel und Gretel At the edge of a rundown suburb there lived a logger who was unemployed because environmentalists were fighting to protect the Spotted Owl. The logger lived with his wife and two children. The little boy's name was Timmy, and the little girl's name was Ginny. There was never much to eat in the house, especially at the end of the month when the foodstamp card was wiped out.

Then, one afternoon, a man on the news warned people to stay indoors because crazy people were attacking other folks in the street. A later update claimed that the crazy people were biting their victims. The report after that said that it might be "formerly dead people rising and attacking the living." The next day, n.o.body was on the television saying anything. All that remained was a screen that said to "Please Stand By!"

That night, the logger lay in bed thinking, tossing and turning with worry. All at once he sighed to his wife, "What's to become of us? How will we feed our children when we barely have enough for ourselves? It isn't safe to venture into the cities. Besides, the looters probably got all the good stuff by now."

"Listen to me, Harold," the woman snapped. "Tomorrow at daybreak we'll take the children across the fields and into the woods. We'll lead them to the thickest part of the forest, make a fire for them, and give them each a sandwich. Then we'll leave them and make our way home again, and that way, we'll be rid of them."

"Are you nuts, Trina?" the man asked his wife. "No way am I dumping my kids in the middle of the woods. Zombies will find them and tear them to pieces."

"You idiot!" Trina said. "Then all four of us will starve. You might as well make a giant tombstone for out in the front yard." The woman gave her husband no peace until he finally agreed.

"But I still feel terrible about the poor children," he whispered after his wife finally dozed off and began snoring beside him.

The children were too hungry to sleep, and besides, their home had walls so thin you could hear a fly walking on the other side. Neadless to say, they heard the entire conversation between their dad and stepmother.

"Oh, Timmy," Ginny wept, "we're so hosed."

"Hush, Ginny," Timmy said. "Don't worry. I'll find a way."

Once he heard both parents snoring he got up, put on his little jacket, opened the bottom half of the Dutch-door and crept outside. The moon was shining bright, and the pebbles around the house glittered like silver coins. In the silvery light he could see and hear the occasional zombie wandering past. Careful not to make a sound that might draw their attention, Timmy crouched down and stuffed his pockets full of the little stones. Then, he slipped back inside without a peep.

"Don't worry, Ginny," Timmy said as he climbed up into his bunk. "Just get some sleep. G.o.d won't forsake us." And with that, he drifted off.

At daybreak, before the sun had risen, the stepmother barged in and woke the children. "Get up you lazybones. We're going to the forest for firewood and maybe we'll find something edible. We need to move now so those d.a.m.n zombies don't see us." She fished around in her pocket and produced two squished sandwiches stuffed into baggies. "This is your only meal for the day so I wouldn't eat it too soon because that's it, and once it's gone...you're done."

Ginny pocketed both sandwiches because Timmy's pockets were full of pebbles. Then they all started out for the forest together. When they had gone a little way, Timmy stopped and took a look back in the direction of the house, and every so often he did it again.

"Timmy," Harold said, "why do you keep looking back and lagging behind? Wake up and get the lead out of your a.s.s."

"Well, Dad," Timmy said, "I'm just keeping my eyes open to make sure zombies aren't sneaking up or chasing us."

"Idiot," Trina scolded. "We're being careful. And don't you think your father and I are keeping our eyes peeled for zombies?"

But Timmy hadn't been looking for zombies. Each time, he had taken a shiny pebble from his pocket and dropped it on the ground.

Once they'd travelled deep into the forest, the children's father said, "Start gathering some wood so we can make a small fire. That way, you two can stay here and be warm while your stepmother and I can see what we can scavenge."

Timmy and Ginny gathered brushwood until they had a little pile of it. The brushwood was kindled, and when the flames were just enough to give a little warmth, Trina said, "Now, children, lie down by the fire and rest. We're going into the forest to cut wood and look for edible plants. When we're done, we'll come back and get you."

"But what if a zombie comes?" Timmy asked, pretending he didn't know what was really going on.

"What would zombies be doing out here in the middle of the woods?" the stepmother replied.

Timmy and Ginny sat by the fire, and at midday they both ate their sandwiches. They heard what sounded like the strokes of an ax and thought that just maybe their dad was nearby. Perhaps he wasn't a complete jerk. But it wasn't an ax, it was a tiny portable CD player. Their stepmother had burned a disc of chopping sounds and put the track on repeat. After just sitting around for so long, plus the fact that they'd been up so late last night with all the worrying, they became so tired that their eyes closed and they fell into a deep sleep. When at last they awoke, the fire had burned out and it was dark night.

"How will we ever find our way out of this forest?" Ginny asked as she began to cry.

"Just wait a little while," Timmy said, comforting his sister. "As soon as the moon rises, we'll find the way."

And when the full moon had risen, Timmy took his sister by the hand and followed the pebbles, which glistened like newly minted silver pieces and showed them the way. They walked all night and only had to duck and hide from zombies a few times. They reached their father's house just as day was breaking. Since it was all locked and boarded up, they had to knock to be let in. When their stepmother opened up the door and saw them, she was p.i.s.sed.

"Rotten little brats!" she scolded. "Why did you sleep so long in the forest? We thought you'd never get home." Of course neither child mentioned that they'd been told to wait until their father and stepmother came for them. And Trina would've been doubly p.i.s.sed if she saw the smirk on her husband's face.

As the zombie problem grew, it became more and more dangerous to scavenge for food. The family had cleared out all the now-vacant houses in the area, but food was growing ever more scarce. It got bad enough that they eventually relied on boiling and eating Harold's toolbelt and work boots. It wasn't long before the children overheard their stepmother working on the father again.

"Everything has been eaten up," Trina griped. "We have a box of crackers and that can of garbanzo beans that people foolishly buy, thinking it will come in handy, but never does. When that's gone, there will be no more. The children have to go. We'll take them deeper into the forest, and this time they won't find their way home; it's our only hope."

It would be better if I shared the last bite with my children, Harold thought as his wife continued to b.i.t.c.h, nag, and moan. And since he'd agreed to it, she knew that if she kept badgering him he would eventually give in.

But the children were awake. (Plus, the thin walls have already been doc.u.mented.) They heard the entire conversation. When the dual-toned sounds of snoring were vibrating on the night air, Timmy climbed out of bed again. He wanted to go out and gather pebbles, but there were too many zombies now for him to risk going out there by himself. Nowadays, whenever they left the house, somebody had to go out on the back balcony and draw any of the zombies in the area to them so that the others could duck out the front. He returned to his room and his sister's crying.

"Don't worry, Ginny," Timmy whispered. "Just get some rest. G.o.d will watch over us."

Early in the morning the stepmother woke the children. She gave them each two crackers and the same drawn-out speech about that being all they'd get. On their way to the forest, Timmy crumbled up his cracker in his pocket. From time to time he stopped and dropped a few crumbs on the ground.

"Timmy," the children's father hissed, trying to be careful not to speak loud enough so that the zombie nearby with its face buried in a mangy dog's gut would notice them, "why are you always stopping and looking back? Keep moving or one of those things is gonna grab you and it'll be all over but the crying."

"I'm just keeping an eye on our rear," Timmy said.

"Fool," snapped the stepmother. "Falling behind like that is a sure way to get s.n.a.t.c.hed by a zombie. Keep up or else." But, little by little, Timmy managed to strew his cracker crumbs on the ground.

The children were led still deeper into the forest to a place they'd never been in all their lives. Again a big fire was made, and the stepmother said, "Just sit here, children. If you get tired, you can sleep awhile. You're far enough into the woods where zombies are unlikely to be a problem. We're going into the forest to cut some wood and search for edible roots and berries, and this evening when we've finished we'll come and get you."

At midday Ginny shared her crackers with Timmy who had strewn his on the ground. Then they fell asleep and the afternoon pa.s.sed, but no one came for the poor children. It was dark night when they woke, and Ginny began to cry.

"Ginny," Timmy put his arm around his sister to comfort her, "just wait until the moon rises; then we'll see the cracker crumbs I strewed and they'll show us the way home."

When the moon rose, they started out. Only, they didn't find any trail of cracker crumbs. However, thousands of birds in the forest and fields had enjoyed quite a snack.

"Don't worry, we'll find the way," Timmy said, trying to rea.s.sure his sister, but they didn't find it.

They walked all night and then all day from morning to night, but they were still in the forest, and they were very hungry. Along the way, they did manage to pluck a few berries here and there, but it wasn't nearly enough to slack their hunger. Eventually they grew so tired that they lay down under a tree and fell asleep.

It was already the third morning since they had left their father's house. They started out again, but they were getting deeper and deeper into the forest, and unless help came soon, they were sure to die of hunger and fatigue.