A gentleman’s club becomes a refuge for the well-to-do when the dead rise, through one member has a dark secret hanging over his head which threatens all who discover it. One by one the group’s number dwindles, until there is nothing left to do but the unthinkable. This alternate history zombie tale recounts the final days in the life of one of the survivors, as his time – and the 1930s – draws to a dark close.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
The choir invisible isn’t as invisible as it used to be; now streets chime with the tones of their number, and it seems their number grows every day. It is almost as if they have been drawn out into the streets from where they have fallen to join their fellow geaches in some macabre pack instinct unknowable to those of us whose eyes are still bright. Their irrepressible desire for the dark meat disturbs me in ways I have not the words to describe, though Asher seemed able to stand witness to their atrocities with no ill. For the longest time I feared I would be ensconced within the walls of the Athenaeum forevermore, a living ghost who bore witness to the darkest of times. As there is little in the way of outstanding duties to perform, I have decided to use what time I have left to put to paper that which I know, and which I have done. Having had time to consider the alternatives, leaving this note – this memorial to events – is most likely the only way my story will be told. I can only hope some souls exist elsewhere in the city; that this is not in vain. As days pass by unmourned and unmarked it becomes ever more evident to me my salvation is not to be. I have made peace with my eventual demise, and leave this testimony that some part of it may illuminate that which transpired here, as unbelievable as much of it must seem. You may scoff at my telling of events, for they are indeed incredible, but I am not a man of grand delusion nor fantasies. That you are reading this, that you have survived, is enough for me. My name, if such things matter any more, is Lord Henry Abercrombie, though that was not my birth name. I was born in undistinguished circumstances, and by a mix of good fortune and cunning enterprise managed to make good of my existence. Public works may have sealed my reputation, but it was private financing where I truly made my mark, not least of which was scientific funding of up and coming men, visionaries the likes of which rarely achieve their fullest. It was not without some modicum of self-interest in which I bankrolled their endeavors, but I dealt fairly in both contract and company. We were to be the architects of a bright new future. We were to be kings. One of my protégés was a remarkable American named Weston, who had arrived in London after some scandal or other had disgraced him in the face of his Miskatonic peers. He had the most unique notions of chemical understanding, such that I had ever encountered, and was engaged in research in cataloging something or other which was beyond me. I was assured, from men of good standing, if he were to succeed there would be a pretty penny to be made in the use of such information. But that was then. Good fortune and cunning, as I have said, were my hallmarks. Both factors played in my favor on the morn of the twenty-first, as my ritual decreed I savored brandy and a Montecristo in the library on the second floor rather than in the reception rooms with the others. Asher was telling one of his stories about, I believe, some far-flung adventure. The disruption came at the ringing of the ten o’clock bell, with Fairfax staggering in claiming to have been assaulted by a most unkempt fellow. His arm was bloodied, and Caruthers – a fine practitioner of the medical arts – set to attendance. The commotion outside soon became apparent, and the grand doors were closed almost immediately. I ventured down to see what assistance I could provide, but it was clear matters were well in hand. Beyond the confinement of the great club, however, the populace was busying themselves tearing at the walls of civilization. Never in my days had I thought to see Englishmen behave in such a fashion, for it was clear to all it wasn’t the expected troublemakers, but good and honest people who were acting in such an undignified manner on the streets.
###############
To read more and find out the depths to which Lord Henry Abercrombie falls, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Known to most for his starring roles in the television series Young Indiana Jones and runaway cult classic film Boondock Saints, Yellow Brigade’s first Lieutenant Sean Patrick Flanery brings to the table a wide variety of talents and experience in matters of survival; Actor, director, writer, martial artist, patriot, purveyor of simple honesty and common sense, and – perhaps most importantly – future presidential candidate. Despite his ongoing struggles with a powerful Reese’s addiction, Flanery is without a doubt the most suited for the daunting task of leadership, and defending our western shores and if and when it all starts to hit the fan.
Believe it or not, you are not entitled to anything. If you find yourself saying “I should have A, B, and C, because I’ve done X, Y, and Z” stop immediately and slap yourself in the face. The world doesn’t owe you something just because you feel that you’ve met some arbitrary criteria that you yourself invented. – Sean Patrick Flanery
Born in Lake Charles, Louisiana and raised in Sugar Land, Texas, Flanery began training in various forms of martial arts at a young age, taking part in his first full-contact kickboxing match at the age of 12. He continued his training while attending the University of Saint Thomas in Houston, but then one fateful day he followed a girl to a drama class and was immediately bitten by the acting bug. Later he moved to Los Angeles and waited tables for a living, before long appearing in television commercials and quickly making the transition to TV roles and onto movies. Flanery has an impressive filmography to boast, and remains today one of the hardest-working actors in the business.
When not working on various projects, including film, television and music videos, Flanery can be found training and teaching the finer points of BJJ to his fellow Los Angelians, attending comic-con events and appearances all over the country, online blogging, interacting with fans on various social networking sites, shopping for frozen pizza or spending quality time with Donut – his most loyal friend, sidekick and quite possibly the coolest canine on the planet. He has taken part in the international USO tour and traveled to the Middle East with fellow Boondock Saints alumni Troy Duffy, Norman Reedus and Brian Mahoney.
Sean Patrick Flanery and Blue Brigade Commander Norman Reedus showing their preparedness for the upcoming Z-pocalypse
Flanery is currently working on the film Dark Power, and will be appearing at Frank Strickland in the TV series Blackout. Be sure to also keep an eye out for the films Scavengers, Phantom, and The Devil’s Carnival.
____________________________________________ Don’t forget to check out our other Fearless Leaders!
Dead Man’s Shoes follows a young man named Carlo when he wakes on the autopsy slab at his local hospital to find that the world has ended and zombies have taken the place of almost every human on the planet. Almost. Carlo meets up with Antoinette as he tries to escape, and discovers that not only does she have strange powers over the walking dead; she seems to know more about Carlo than he does. As Antoinette brings Carlo closer to knowing the role he has to play in ending the apocalypse and saving the remnants of humanity, they are confronted by the demonic source of the plague, a creature named Legion. To battle the demon, Carlo must confront his past, and call upon the Voodoo god of death, Baron Samedi, to fight for the future of mankind.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
Carlo woke up in the morgue. He’d been awakened by screaming, and the echoes of it crashed around in his head. His muscles creaked as he rolled to the side on the examination table and sat, letting the sheet covering him fall away. Emergency lighting cast the room in halogen relief. He heard a soft, wet sound coming from behind the supply cupboard. A woman crouched there. She wore a thin hospital gown, so slick with blood it clung to her body, accentuating what had once been beautiful. She crouched over the body of a heavyset man. She reached down and wrenched a chunk of red meat out of his chest, then shovelled it into her mouth. Carlo gagged at the sight, and the corpse jerked her head up to look at him. Her eyes were milky white, and black veins stood out under the translucent skin on her face. She opened her mouth and hissed at him, a sound not even remotely human. Trying not vomit, he back away and tripped over something solid on the floor. Another moving corpse, its mouth working soundlessly as he fell beside it. Carlo screamed and thrashed back to his feet. Tears streamed down his face as he took in the rest of the morgue. There were five bodies in all, all awake. Only the woman and the body on the floor moved, the others were tied to exam tables. Bloody clothing littered the floor, vaguely medical, in a bio hazard way. He didn’t look too closely, afraid what the clothes might be covering. The dead woman rose slowly, blood dribbling from her open mouth. Her head lolled to one side, and her filmy eyes didn’t blink as she walked towards him. “Get away from me, get…” Carl’s dry throat reduced the words to a croak. She growled, from somewhere deep inside her, and the rotting meat stink filled the air between them. Something was wrong with the way the woman walked, as if she hung from the wires of a drunk puppeteer. He cringed away from her, driving his head back against the wall, his feet slipping in the blood on the floor. She sniffed him, like a dog at suspicious roadkill, then she extended her swollen purple tongue and licked across his eye. Carlo closed his eyes, feeling the dry rasp of her tongue scrape across his face, snagging his eyelid and dragging it open to see the veins creeping under her skin as she tasted him. Just as Carlo thought he was going to pass out, she moved, lurching back to the body she’d been eating. The other bodies still mouthed and grasped at him, but as long as he kept to the walls, they couldn’t touch him. The terror stayed with him for so long Carlo began feeling detached. In a quiet corner of his mind he felt his heart trying to leap out of his throat, his rapid breathing and the sweat running off his face and mixing with the blood on the floor. I have to get out. It was the first thought that counted as a thought instead of a pure terror reaction. He started looking around for the door. There. Tantalisingly close, just past the rows of grasping hands. Carlo took two deep breaths and charged as quickly as he could past the tied down bodies and into the double doors. A heavy chain held the doors closed. Carlo bounced off the doors and landed on his ass on the slick floor. He swore and pushed himself up to his feet. Carlo was a big guy, and he threw himself at the door again, aiming not at the chains but at the bolts holding the door to the frame. There was a loud crack, and the abused door tore out of the wall. Carlo entered the main hospital in a shower of splinters, just about running over a woman who’d appeared just to the right of the main door. They stood blinking at each other. “There you are. Do you have any idea how many morgues there are in this city?” Her eyes flicked behind him. “No, you stay where you are.” She pointed a long white stick over Carlo’s shoulder and unleashed a stream of words in a language that seemed oddly familiar to Carlo. He turned to look at the zombie woman who stood behind him, her mouth hanging open. The creature stood transfixed by the woman in the hallway. There was a long second where Carlo thought the zombie would attack her, but she simply swayed in place for a few moments before grunting and turning back into the darkness
###############
To read more and find out what happens to Carlo in his battle with Legion, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Love Me Dead or Alive is the touching… nay… poignant story of Mindy who is attempting to come to grips with her own mortality as her undead boyfriend pressures her to join him so they can be together forever. Titus has more to fear than just his girlfriend’s ticking mortal clock, though; an old school buddy is trying to force Titus’s hand in doing a little doctoring the dead. It’s the age old story of boy loves girl… girl loves boy… boy is dead and wants girl to be also but she isn’t sure if she is ready for that commitment… with zombie monkeys.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
The incessant dinging of the doorbell could either mean trouble or the neighbor kids. Titus opened the door just as Mindy dropped dead at his feet. Again. She needed to stop doing this. He snatched her up off the ground and carried her into his back room, laying her on the metal table. It looked like blood loss was the culprit this time. He lifted her shirt to see two stab wounds. Holy crap. She had to take more time off. Using the searing wand, he burnt the wounds closed while covering his nose. Burnt flesh smelled bad enough, but Mindy’s burnt flesh creeped him out like nothing else could. Finally, when he was certain she wasn’t just going to die all over again, he stabbed the hypodermic in her chest and flooded her heart with the solution before he hit her with the magnetic pulse. “C’mon, Mindy,” he whispered. He watched the monitors for her vital signs to spike. Crap. He hit her again with the magnetic pulse. The beat of her heart made him sigh. Her wounds started closing up as the enriched blood pumped through. Every time he did this he experienced a Dr. Frankenstein moment where he wanted to yell, “It’s alive,” but Mindy probably wouldn’t appreciate it… at all. Then again, he didn’t appreciate her dying on him. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him. “Hey, Beautiful.” Titus leaned over her and brushed some hair from her eyes. “You woke up just in time. I was starting to worry I was developing necrophilia. It turns out you look hotter alive than dead.” She laughed. “So, stop dying on me,” he said. She winced suddenly. “What? What’s wrong?” She really needed to stop the vigilante business. “My shoulder. I think that freak I took down knocked it out of its socket,” she said. His jaw tightened with disapproval as he leaned over and felt her shoulder. She just had to stop. If not for herself… for him…. “Don’t, Titus.” “Don’t what, Mindy? Don’t worry about you?” “It’s not that bad.” He shoved down and pulled on her arm. She screamed in pain and curled into a ball. Tucking his frame around hers, Titus rubbed the muscles on her back. She already showed signs of healing, but that hurt them both every time. “I’m fine.” “You’re not, Mindy. This is getting ridiculous. Do you know how hard it is seeing you dead? No, you don’t because I don’t keep dying on you.” “It doesn’t KEEP happening,” she said, sitting up. “Fifth time, babe. Fifth time,” he said, cleaning up the crash kit he kept near the door for just such occasions. “What if I can’t get to you within eight minutes? You know how complicated it is to restore brain cells in someone with oxygenated blood and a beating heart. They don’t always work right. You could end up as a real zombie.” He threw the syringe in the disposal, and it shattered which actually seemed to help his mood. “Not to mention I’ve never done this more than nine times on anything. Chester might have had nine lives in him, but who knows if you do. You’re a lot more complicated than a freaking cat, Mindy.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind. “Shh, Titus,” she said. Her skin felt warm, and he tried to pretend it wasn’t nice… that he didn’t like the heat radiating off her. He rubbed his hands across her arms. If her skin was cold, it wouldn’t matter; he’d still love her… with all his cold, silent heart.
###############
To read more and find out what happens to Mindy, Titus, and the zombie monkeys, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Actor, director, writer, motivational speaker and singer…. Green brigade’s commander IronE Singleton brings to the table an invaluable combination of strength, determination and passion possessed by some but unmatched by none. IronE hails from Atlanta, Georgia and has already faced the shambling horde, looked it right in the eye and refused to give up the good fight for even a moment. Outgoing, gregarious and quick to smile, Irone’s laughter is more infectious than any zombie plague and his endless determination is a shining example to all.
IronE recently got his feet wet in the convention scene by attending Monster Mania 21 in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. While a seemingly endless horde of adoring fans and admirers might have caused some to tremble in abject fear, IronE faced them all with his trademark disarming smile and made each one feel as welcome as if they were stepping into his home rather than standing in line at a noisy, crowded convention.
IronE’s many varied talents have taken him from the University of Georgia to television, theatre and film. He has appeared on the big screen in several films, including The Blind Side, Lottery Ticket, Seeking Justice. And the upcoming film A Box For Rob. Television appearances include pilots for ABC’s Detroit 1-8-7, VH1’s Single Ladies, and TNT’s Franklin & Bash, and he has also appeared in CW’s One Tree Hill and BET’s Somebodies… but most notably he is the one and only Theodore Douglas, a.k.a. T-Dog on AMC’s The Walking Dead. On the theatre side, be sure to check out his inspiring one-man show: IronE . . . The Resurrected. This inspiring story of survival, heartbreak, transformation and healing is a must-see for all.
Under IronE’s experienced leadership, Green Brigade is best equipped to keep up the morale as the battle for survival wages on and we would surely find ourselves in one fine mess without him.
Erik and Jaimy have a relationship that’s filled with love and commitment. There’s just one problem… she wants to eat him. He works hard to keep her grounded in the world of the living, but Amanda, Jaimy’s best friend, wants her to embrace all aspects of being undead, including munching on Erik, buffet-style. Erik knows that he’s fighting an impossible battle, but he’s become a zombie in many ways himself. When he’s left vulnerable, will Jaimy’s love save him or will she embrace her true nature and destroy him?
.
But I Do Love You For Your Brain (A Zombie Love Story) by Jessica Capelle
.
“I have to put my foot down, Jaimy. I mean it.” “Mmmmm… foot. Jaimy like foot.” She grins, and her jaw sags. It makes her look like the Joker. Good thing I like Batman. “Focus, sweetie. I’m serious. Amanda can’t come over if she’s going to attack me. Don’t you understand how that makes me feel?” “But foot good. Jaimy hungry.” “Enough with the foot!” I yell. Jaimy’s bottom lip drops below her chin, the zombie version of a pout. “I’m sorry, honey,” I sigh. “Let’s just finish the movie, okay?” She snuggles up to me and digs her head into my neck. The familiar smell of mold mixed with coconut shampoo clings to her limp, matted hair. No matter how often she showers, the mildew smell lingers. I’ve come to love that smell. I never planned to have a member of the undead as my girlfriend. My opinion of zombies had always been they were disgusting, unnatural creatures. Hell, they only existed in bad horror films until two years ago. No one’s sure how it started, but the current ratio of undead to “stays dead” is about even. After the initial panic, the government held mandatory classes on how to deal with zombies. Unlike the film versions, our zombies behaved pretty much like when they were alive. Once you got past their steep decline in I.Q. and their cravings for human flesh, you could almost forget what they were. Congress fast-tracked legislation to make it a crime to kill a zombie unless you were under attack. Zombie rights groups formed soon after, and the push for integration led to hate-crime legislation. The compromise was the installation of “big brother” cameras on every corner. With the cameras, you could prove you only acted to save yourself. Zombie hate crimes are pretty rare now, although I suspect that’s because many people provoke zombies into coming after them. Jaimy will graduate from King High this year, unless there’s another unfortunate incident with a teacher. But it’s really not her fault. Amanda is to blame for Jaimy’s slip-ups. She always tries to get Jaimy to eat people and destroy things. Just because they’re zombies doesn’t mean they can’t be civilized, but Amanda has completely embraced her inner zombie.
###############
To read more, and find out what happens to Erik and Jaimy, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Keeper of secrets, slayer of demons, romancer of vampires, destroyer of zombies and things that go bump in the night, Orange Brigade Commander RC Murphy is as gifted with the pen as she is with the sword, and twice as deadly. An accomplished writer, blogger, student of history, musical theatre and Oreo aficionado, RC Murphy is a creature of extraordinary talent.
"Puppy breath makes the world a better place."
She resides in a dungeon of red satin and lace by day, putting her talents to work in order to best prepare us, the hapless and clueless, for that fateful day when all that goes bump in the night becomes reality. By night she patrols the California coast with a sharp eye on the perimeter and an ear tuned into the undercurrents, listening, watching, and waiting for even the smallest sign that the Z-pocalypse is upon us.
This coming April, RC Murphy will be attending the San Jose Fantasy Festival for book signings and sales alongside other fantasy and paranormal writers, artists and performers April 14th and 15th.
RC Murphy and our Commander in Chief Juliette Terzieff enjoying a rare moment of calm, just before the onslaught begins.
For those of you who have been following the plight of Blue Brigade loyalist, Moira Jones, we received another communication from her last night. You may recall she sent the Zombie Survival Crew command a cry for help, and we are proud of our crew, because the response was immediate. Field reports came in and a rescue mission was mounted. Below is the communication record of a call received last night in the command center. While the situation seems dire for our brave crew member, we will not give up hope.
FLANERY: ZSC Command, Lieutenant Flanery. State your name and brigade.
JONES: Oh, my gosh! It works! THE PHONE WORKS!
*static*
JONES:Hello? Are you…
*static*
FLANERY: Name and brigade?
*static*
JONES: … me! It’s Moira!
FLANERY:Moira! Thank god. Are you alright?
JONES: I think so, but I need your help!
FLANERY:Commander Reedus and Rooker have put together a retrieval team. They’re on the way to you now. Just hang on.
*silence*
FLANERY: Moira? Are you okay?
*silence*
FLANERY: Have you been bitten or scratched?
JONES: No, but…
*static*
JONES: … scared.
FLANERY: Say again?
JONES: I said, I’m scared.
FLANERY: Oh kid. That’s okay. Hell, if you weren’t scared I’d be worried about you.
JONES: I wish Donut was here.
*barking*
FLANERY: She says, “Stay Dixon strong.”
JONES: Will you stay on the phone with me until the rescue team gets here?
FLANERY: Of course, I will, kid. We just need to make sure you’re as safe as possible. Are you in a contained space? Can the walkers get to you where you are?
JONES: I don’t think so. The only way up to the sixth floor now is the stairs and I blocked the door. I don’t think they can get in.
What can we say about Anthony? Enthusiastic, energetic and loyal, he leaps into action without hesitation, fears neither defeat nor the undead even when faced with the most overwhelming odds and never misses the opportunity to use (or misuse) sharp pointy weapons. He has a smile even more infectious than the most devastating of zombie viruses and can charm his way in and out of even the most precarious of situations. But don’t make the mistake of underestimating one of the ZSC’s youngest commanders, Light Blue Brigade Commander Anthony Guajardo has stood toe to toe with true badassery and lived to tell the tale.
Evidence of his invaluable resourcefulness was witnessed just last year; while on a regular reconnaissance mission in Philadelphia, Lt. Blue Brigade intercepted a suspicious communication that indicated the city’s water supply might be at risk of contamination by an unknown substance. Acting purely on raw instincts, Anthony hit the streets in full stealth mode. Once he had identified the most likely point of origin, he enlisted the aid of nearby members of the Red Brigade and other ZSC loyalists to successfully establish a protective perimeter and prevent contamination. His quick and decisive actions saved the city of brotherly love from what would surely have led to a catastrophe of global proportions. We have no doubt that all would have been lost had he not been there.
Anthony hails from San Antonio, Texas. When he is not busy saving our collective behinds from the shambling hordes, he is a hard-working actor who has appeared in television commercials and live theater since the age of 5. With high marks for his studies in Technical Theater History, he got his first true taste of the business after landing a featured role in the film Shark Boy and Lava Girl. Through hard work, perseverance, faith and perhaps a healthy dose of sheer stubbornness, Anthony landed the role of Miguel on the AMC original series “The Walking Dead,” an experience that he would later describe as the best experience of his life.
Anthony with fellow ZSC Commanders Norman Reedus and Neil Brown, Jr.
“People aren’t always what you expect them to be. I remember when I first got on set and was looking around at all these established actors and big scary dudes made up to be “vatos” I was a little intimidated. But the truth was that all of the actors were really nice, hardworking people ….and the “vatos” were just a bunch of big teddy bears.”
Anthony is currently living in Los Angeles and recently participated in a national commercial campaign with AAA. He also starred in a short film with Director Rod Guajardo. Anthony also enjoys exploring the behind-the-scenes aspect of the industry and when the opportunity presented itself, he jumped onboard feet first with the upcoming indie short filmArose the Coward
Anthony keeps a sharp eye on the perimeter while the rest of the crew embarks upon a very dangerous and important mission - replenishment of caffeine supplies.
MISSION: Rescue one Moira Jones from 6th floor of over run hospital. OBJECTIVE: Search for and rescue Moira Jones and bring to safety. STRATEGY: Rendezvous with fellow members of the ZSC and use skill sets to bring Moira Jones to safety.
The cold wind cut through the thick hoodie, pea-coat, and flannel shirt I wore as I walked along the cracked and crumbled sidewalk. I shivered and ducked my head down in an effort to keep it at bay. It seemed I was always cold these days. The power in the abandoned library I lived in finally kicked the bucket and at night the cold became unbearable. The daytime wasn’t much better thanks to the heavy gray clouds covering the sky for miles in all directions. Another problem with clouds, they made everything feel so much more depressing. Sure, the city wasn’t deserted, not yet. Several apartment complexes and quite a few stores had been abandoned when the first outbreak occurred. But those who stayed…stayed put. No one ventured outside anymore, not for long anyway. The gray clouds were always a kind of symbol of that for me, in a weird way. They had this feeling of expectancy, of waiting. You knew the clouds wanted to break and shower the city with rain, sleet—whatever it was up there—but it kept itself contained. That’s kind of the way things were now. I touched the grip of my Colt 1911 as if expecting Hell to break out right there. It didn’t. I relaxed a bit and tried to concentrate on keeping my teeth from chattering. The first outbreak happened a little over three months ago. It sent everyone into a panic. There’d been smaller ones since. Whenever someone dropped dead it was only a matter of time before they began walking around again. Everyone came to expect this, but that didn’t make it any less frightening. I have it a bit easier than most, though, no family to take care of really. I have a sort of ‘family’ with the Zombie Survival Crew, but no one to be obligated to. I missed that. See, I’d been living with my little brother and my uncle. Then my brother, Todd, turned. He was one of the first to turn, actually. Just six years old… After that my uncle took off. I don’t know where, and I don’t really care. Everyone in our apartment building left to go find shelter deeper in the city or find their family and friends. I think we all knew the first outbreak was just the tip of the iceberg. I left too, taking as much food as I could and a few blankets, and moved into the public library. To be honest, I’m surprised no one else thought to go there. I mean, the doors are heavy wood, easy to barricade with bookshelves. There’s entertainment, and as a long as you have enough food and warmth, it’d be perfect. Oh well, guess I’m the only one to think of it. I headed to the abandoned supermarket just a few blocks down. My canned food supplies were low. If I was lucky, I’d be able to find a few cans that hadn’t been grabbed already. As I walked, I looked up, brushing back some of my windswept hair out of my face, and saw a group of four coming towards me. I stopped, my hand immediately going to my gun. They stopped. I saw that they were alive. They reached for their weapons too, and eyed me with suspicion and distrust. I dropped my hand to show them I wouldn’t draw my weapon if they weren’t. They started to move, but kept their hands close to their weapons as they crossed the street, watching me the whole time. I started walking again, making sure they wouldn’t try anything when I turned my back. Only after I rounded a corner did I relax. You couldn’t be too careful. It wasn’t just the dead you had to fear; you never knew what other people were planning, either. The Walkers aren’t really a huge threat in this area, not yet, anyway. It’s only a matter of time. Everyone knows that. You can’t stop people from dying, and you can’t keep them from coming back, either. No matter how many times you heard the broadcasts swearing up and down that a cure is right around the corner. That’s complete bull crap. Fear ruled the city now. I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the darkened windows of the supermarket up ahead. Half way done with the trip, but I didn’t feel safe. No one felt safe anymore. I slid my gun out from my belt and switched the safety off, chambering a round. Satisfied, I moved quickly up the sidewalk and to the broken automated doors. I peered inside, quieting my breathing so I could hear better. I didn’t hear anything at all, so I eased inside and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I didn’t want to use it the flashlight in my pocket, (a) because I didn’t know how long the batteries would last—and there was a shortage of batteries now ever since the power outages started happening more and more frequently—and (b) I didn’t know if a Walker lurked inside or not. My eyesight adjusted and I eased my way towards back wall. I’d been in here a few times with better lighting. If there were any canned goods left, they’d be back there. Trying my best not to make a sound, I started to make my way down the aisle. I should’ve checked the ground better, I know. My foot hit a basket in the middle of the aisle and it went clattering across the floor. Gasping, I froze and waited for the echo of metal clattering on the floor to cease. As it died away, another sound made my heart stop, then immediately begin hammering at my ribcage. Slow, shuffling footsteps came from somewhere in the store. I whirled around and inhaled deeply, hoping to smell it before it got too close, or I hear it. Whatever it was. I couldn’t stay put, it would be suicide. The smartest thing to do would be to keep moving. I did. When I estimated I reached the canned goods section, I reached out and started feeling for cans. It didn’t matter what I picked up, I’m not a picky eater. I was just happy when my hand touched the cold aluminum and started snatching up cans, shoving them into the canvas shoulder bag. I tried not to let them clink against the extra ammo clips in there. Satisfied I grabbed enough for another week or two, I started for the exit. “Uhhhhhhhhhhh…” The moan came from right at my elbow. I whirled. My arm smacked into cold, clammy, rotten flesh. How could I not notice a walker getting that close? The sound of cans clicking together probably distracted me but that was no excuse. I needed to do better than that. I aimed my gun at where my arm met dead flesh, then thought better of it. With my other hand I pulled free the Army Scout knife strapped to my leg and swung. The blade ripped into soft tissue. An angry growl crept from the darkness before a heavy body stumbled against me. “Get off!” I shouted, shoving it back as hard as I could and swung again, aiming up towards the source of all the moaning. “GAH!” The walker moaned. The blade dug into thick bone. It hit the skull, but didn’t penetrate to the bone. I quickly jerked it free, a foot against the zombie as leverage, then brought the knife down as hard as I could. It plowed into the zombie’s skull. A disgusting, cold liquid squirted onto my hand, doubtless blood and brain. Thunk. The zombie fell at my feet, dead once and for all. I pulled my knife free, wiped it clean on the nearby shelf, re-sheathed my weapons, and bolted for the door. I didn’t stop running until I was halfway down the sidewalk. That was close, I thought. Too close. Pay more attention next time. Still, it was satisfying to be alive in spite of the gray, gooey slime on my left hand. Best of all, at least seven cans were in my bag. I patted my haul appreciatively. As I walked, a noise off to my right made me stop. I reached for the blade once again—it’d be best to keep noise to a minimum. A terrier, very dirty looking, padded out of the alley up ahead. I stopped short. I hadn’t seen an animal in ages, except for crows of course. All of the pets disappeared; either locked in with their owners, run off, or eaten from what I could figure. “Hey, puppy,” I crooned, offering my hand in a sign of friendliness. “You all alone? Come on, I won’t hurt you.” I inched forward, careful not to look threatening. The dog stopped, ears lifted in alert. I smooched my lips, begging it come with me. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” The dog whimpered then cautiously trotted forward, staying as far away as possible. He sniffed my hand. I tried my luck and slowly uncurled my fingers to touch the rough fur on his head. He backed away. I clicked my tongue. He approached again. I managed to gently stroke his fur. Slowly, his droopy tail began to sweep back and forth. That’s what I love about dogs. They can go through the worst things and still be willing to love if shown affection. “There we go,” I murmured approvingly, stroking under his chin when I saw it made his tail wag faster. “Now just come home with me and we’ll—” The dog’s head jerked towards the alley. He gave a startled yelp before turning and darting away. “No, wait!” I called, getting to my feet. “Don’t go!” A clattering from the alley grabbed my attention. I drew my knife. Doubtless the little dog heard something in the alley before I did. Another walker appeared from the mouth of the alley, shambling forward unsteadily. I pulled back and drove my knife into the side of its head, pushing over against the wall. It struggled for a moment, so I twisted the embedded knife, making sure I destroyed the brain, and then jerked it free. The zombie crumpled at my feet. I fought off a wave of nausea. A woman this time, with dirty, long blond hair. She couldn’t have been dead very long. Her color wasn’t as bad as I’d seen before, it was still a bit pink, though fast changing to gray. “Mwaaaaaaahh…” The moan came from the alley. I whirled, my knife ready to go into the head of another walker, but I stopped short. The alley overflowed with walkers. Their voices joined together in a grisly howl of the hunt. I bolted for the library. I charged through the front doors and slammed them shut and tipped the heavy bookcase barricade in front of them. In a few minutes the sound of their moans grew louder. The scratch of their nails raked against the wooden doors as they thumped against them in vain. I started towards my little sleeping spot in the back corner, a good vantage point from which I could see every entrance and exit. Suddenly my pocket vibrated. The musical jingle of a ring tone floated up to me. I scrambled for it. The phone only ever received calls from other Zombie Survival Crew members—all of which were formidable fighters. If they called, things were dire, indeed. We’d been lucky so far to maintain a stable connection. I pulled it free and looked at the caller ID. My eyebrows raised in surprise. Eve! “Hello?” The line was filled with static, but I could still hear her. “Emma!” she said in relief. “I thought you would never answer. Are you okay?” I glanced at the doors. The walkers continued to thump and moan outside. “Sure,” I said. “Nothing I can’t handle. What’s wrong?” She paused. I frowned. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “Eve, what’s wrong?” I asked, a bit worried. “It—It’s Moira,” she said quietly. My heart skipped a beat. “What?” My voice rose in panic in spite of my efforts to control it, “What’s happened to Moira?” “She’s okay,” Eve said hurriedly. “For now. We just got word that her hospital has been overrun with walkers. She’s pinned down and needs help, fast.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Thank God.” True, her situation was less than appealing, but as long as she lived, I’d hold out hope. We agreed to meet at the abandoned hotel close by the hospital. “Be careful,” Eve said. I smiled. She’d become a surrogate mother and big sister rolled into one. “I will if you will,” I said. “I’ll be over in just a little while.” Over in my sleeping area, I reached under my pillow for the rest of the ammo I kept stashed there. And for something else—my sword. I loaded up with the extra ammo, bits of jerky, bandages, an extra knife, and some pain pills and antibiotic ointment I’d been lucky enough to find. I strapped on my sword and headed for the side door, hoping the walkers hadn’t gone around back. All clear. I took a deep breath and kept my sword at the ready, just in case. The bookshelf barricade slid out of the way. I slipped through the door and onto the sidewalk. Out of the multitude of buildings I picked out the one I knew to be the hospital. It stood quite a hike away and doubtless wouldn’t be an easy trip. But I didn’t care. This was Moira we were talking about, Moira. The strong one, the one we all looked up to and admired. The angel. I swallowed the lump in my throat at thought of how scared she must be. With Eve, Jess, Apryl, Tiffany and Rebecca helping me, there’s no way we’d let anything happen to her. Hang on, Moira, I thought. Breaking into a jog, I ran still clutching my sword. “Help is on the way.”
Jessica’s POV:
Zombie Survival Crew
“We are going to need more supplies.” I said, looking at the nearly bare shelves. My mother, little sister, step-dad, and fiancé were staying in my house. All of the doors and windows barricaded. “I will drive to the store and see if there is anything left.” Unfortunately, people didn’t always take what they absolutely needed. Most of the stuff went whether it was needed or not. We were down to a few cans of vegetables, a box and a half of cereal, and five bottles of water. That wouldn’t last very long. A trip to the store was in high demand. Not to mention, we needed medical supplies. A couple of band-aids, not even half a tube of Antibiotic ointment, one wrap, and about twenty-five Ibuprofen pills. I put on my homemade weapons belt and grabbed my cast iron skillet, slipping it in the holster designed for it. Then I grabbed my twin Desert Eagles with silencers, army knife, and three daggers. As I put on my coat I said, “Come here, Luna”. Fortunately, I’d taken the time to have Luna properly trained by Sean Patrick Flanery and Donut. She was a zombie killing machine. With her, I felt calmer. I knew she had my back. Luna and I headed for the door. “Don’t forget your phone!” mom called out and tossed my phone to me. “Thanks!” I smirked and walked out the door. Luna and I got into the car and headed to the store. When we got there, there a group of living people stood outside. The group of men looked like they meant business. One guy held a baseball bat and thumped it against his hand. Another rested his hand on the handle of a machete. Two others stepped forward, holding crowbars. I stopped for a minute and looked over each one of them carefully. Didn’t see any guns. I moved toward the doors. “Don’t take another step,” the biggest guy warned. “We run this place, and if you want to come in, you’ll need to pay.” Pay? Right…we’ll see who will pay. I took another step. “I’m warning you,” he shouted. “You need to give us some weapons if you want to come in here!” I couldn’t help it. The giggles bubbled up in my stomach. I let out a huge roll of laughter. They were just amusing. Did they not know? Well, of course they had no idea that I was in the Purple Brigade of the Zombie Survival Crew and therefore properly trained to handle any and every situation that might arise. “What are you laughing at, ho?” asked the smallest guy of them all. I went from laughing to serious in a millisecond. Oh no he didn’t. Not taking my eyes off of them, I opened the car door. Luna stepped out. She bared her fangs. Her hackles rose down her back. She stood there and stared at them. “What was it that you said? I don’t think my dog heard you quite right,” I said taking a few steps closer. Luna stayed in step with me, not taking her eyes off of them. “I called you a ho,” the little guy said, emphasizing the word. “That’s what I thought you said.” I smiled. With one swoop, I pulled the three daggers from their holster and whipped them toward the men. They hit their mark, leaving the little guy standing. While the three clutched their legs, Luna lunged at the little guy and took him down to the ground. They writhed on the cold, wet concrete. I smiled and said, “I wouldn’t move if I were you. Luna doesn’t take jokes very well, and that’s all you guys are…a joke.” I walked into the store and grabbed a few more cans of food, some more medicine, and some dog food. When I walked back out, the four grown men were sitting with terrified looks on their faces. One of them actually peed himself. “Keep the daggers,” I said with a grin. “There’s plenty more where they came from. Come on, Luna.” We got in the car and headed back to the house. On the way home my phone rang. LK Gardner-Griffie, my commander, informed me that someone was in distress. A fellow member needed help. LK was safe, but couldn’t get out to help anyone at the time. “I’ll take care of it,” I assured her. “It’s Moira. She’s trapped in her hospital room, almost out of supplies. All of her caretakers are dead.” The words stung like a million bees. “I will get a group together to help her,” I promised. As soon as I hung up with my commander I called my sister, Eve. Without even saying hello she asked, “Are you safe? Is everything okay?” I assured her that I was fine, but told her that we had a problem. “What is it?” she asked, desperation in her voice. “It’s Moira, Eve. She sent out a distress call through ZSC. She’s stuck in her hospital, alone, barricaded on the sixth floor. She’s not injured but is running low on food. She needs our help.” Panic rose up inside my chest. “Alright, let’s meet up at my work then we can head out from there. We can’t leave Moira defenseless like that!” Eve’s voice cracked. “Okay, see you there.” I got to the house and unloaded everything and informed everyone that a very sweet young lady needed my help. I said goodbye to everyone and packed a few supplies, my weapons and Luna in the car. I headed to Eve’s work. She got in the car without a word. We were all business on the way to the hospital. Eve pulled out her phone to call Emma. I listened to the conversation. When Eve said we were pulling together a team to go help Moira and asked if Em was in, I gave my best “Hell Yeah, let’s do this’” grin to my sister. Eve hung up with Emma after telling her where to meet us. She looked over at me and gave me a soft punch in the arm. “You ready for this, Jess?” I smiled. Luna nudged me; I pat her on the head. “Those walkers don’t stand a chance. Let’s go save Moira.” We took off for the hospital.
Misson:
The Rescue Team
We all gathered in room twelve upon arrival. The stench of death filled the air. The moans of walkers echoed in the distance. Apryl, Jessica, Rebecca, Emma, Eve and I stood discussing strategies. Jessica got a map of the hospital. She wouldn’t tell us how. A knock on the door made us jump. Walkers couldn’t knock! We draw our weapons, ready for a fight. Eve grabbed the door handle and yanked it open after a silent count of three. We lower our weapons. Michael and Norman stood in the hallway. They’d received our mission and coordinates. We laid out a plan—who’d go where and how we’d work our way through the hospital. The only option was to clear it out in order to reach Moira. Michael tossed his bag down on the bed and pulled out walkie talkies. We established a safe word when one of us clears a path, “Squirrel”. “Oreo” meant pretty much get your butt to my location I am in need of assistance. We’d reconvene on the sixth floor. The mission would be tricky but Moira was worth it. Her bravery is ZSC legend. She possesses the courage of an army of millions. We needed to draw on that and go get our girl. We headed out, ready to stomp walker butt and save our little chick-a-dee. Standing outside the hospital, the world became quiet—too quiet. Despite our nerves, we needed to go in there. Michael would lead the team of myself, Apryl and Emma. Norman had Eve, Rebecca and Jessica. Once we cleared the first level, we’d break apart once more; Norman and Eve, Michael and I, Apryl and Emma, and Jessica and Rebecca. We all look at each other, say a prayer and charge the hospital “To Moira!” This would be one hell of a night.
A gentleman’s club becomes a refuge for the well-to-do when the dead rise, through one member has a dark secret hanging over his head which threatens all who discover it. One by one the group’s number dwindles, until there is nothing left to do but the unthinkable. This alternate history zombie tale recounts the final days in the life of one of the survivors, as his time – and the 1930s – draws to a dark close.
FLANERY: Name and brigade?
