Zombie story I've been writing for fun.

Okay, here's what I have so far. I know there are thousands of these things going around. I just thought it could be funny.

When the outbreak began, I was an unemployed Navy veteran, living of of unemployment checks, Banquet frozen dinners, and a steady stream of weed. On the day of the outbreak I was headed back to the house I rent with my brother with a fresh carton of cigarettes and a 12 pack of Shiner Bock. Sitting at a red light, I saw a man sort of shuffle into traffic and get plowed over by a Grand Marquise driven by what appeared to be Grandfather Time. The Grand Marquise screeched to a stop 20 feet in front of the crumpled corpse of the business suited man. I Jumped out of the Firebird and ran up to him, but it was no use, nobody could have survived that. His legs were broken in several places and bent all the wrong directions, as were his arms. His torso had been caved in by the BF Goodrich Touring tires on the passenger side of the car. His head was spun around full-on exorcist style. Grandfather Time shuffled up to the site, leaning on a very expensive looking walker.

“God damn, crazy #er just walked right out in front of me, you saw it!” Said Grandfather Time.
“Yeah, I saw it, wasn’t much you could’ve done about it.” I said, lighting a smoke.

“Surely I didn’t do all that with my car, look at his head, I don’t even think I hit his head.”
“Well, I watched him walk out, he wasn’t in very good shape to begin with. I’ll stick around and tell the cops you couldn’t have done anything.”
“Don’t worry son,” said Grandpa Time,”the ambulance is on the way.”


Suddenly the dead man took a raspy breath, and let out a haggard moan. One mutilated hand grabbed the old man’s ankle.

“#, I thought he was a door nail for sure. #, look out, he’s gonna bite you!” I said, trying to grab the old man out of the dead man’s grip.
“Stand back son!” Said the old man, pushing me away.
The corpse snapped at the old man, but missed. The old man raised his walker up over his head, and brought it down on the corpse’s head, busting it like a melon. I forced back a gag, and stared at Grandfather Time in shock.

“#, I haven’t seen one of them Zombie sonsabitches since Germany in 44!” said the old man.

“What are you talking about, zombies? I think you’ve seen too many movies, Pop.”
“Well the police are here, listen to me son, if you see somebody else like that, go for the brain, don’t let them bite you!”
“Sir, I don’t want to lie to the cops.” I said, still shocked and shaken over what I’d saw, after 4 years in the navy, a lot of it spent on counter-piracy missions off the coast of Somalia, I had never seen anybody get killed like that.
“I don’t expect you to, you’ll be ok telling the truth, I’m a crazy old man, right?” Said the old man.

The police took a statement from me, I told them what happened, even the part about the old man smashing the victim with his walker. I stacked it up to bath salts, the newest fad, in Florida they were said to have caused a man to eat a homeless guy’s face in front of the cops. So I didn’t put much stock in it. I got home and told my brother about it, loaded a bowl and baked for a while.

Later on, while half way watching the six o’clock news and reading a The Stand, one of the stories caught my attention. An attractive brunette with a picture of a crime scene chalk sketch with Traffic Murder in Miami, under it.

“Earlier today a Miami man was killed in a traffic accident after he walked into oncoming traffic at the corner of BJ tunnel and Steve Owens Boulevard. Jack Simpson, a 94 year-old Medal of Honor winner in World War Two was the driver of the car. Sources say that Simpson and a bystander tried to aid the man who was not yet dead according to some witnesses. The same Eyewitnesses say that Simpson then bludgeoned the Victim with a walker, killing him. Simpson was taken in for questioning and went on record saying that the man was a Zombie and tried to bite him. Police have placed Simpson into the care of the Vinita Mental Hospital. Sources at Vinita blame Senility and Post Tramatic Stress Disorder due to his service in Germany in World War Two. Now Here’s Gary with the Weather.”

That night CNN reported that story, and seven other cases of similar scenarios in which alleged corpses attacked people and bit them, those who were bitten would then die, and awaked six hours later as a re-animated corpse. Within a day the infection spread to all fifty states, within a week cases were reported in throughout North, central, and south America. Throughout Aisia and the Middle East, and spread through Europe like Wildfire. President Barack Obama declared a state of Marshal Law and Military Personnel rousted suspected infected civilians and locked them in FEMA camps for treatment, but there was none, no treatment known or experimental worked, the undead continued to decay, and there was no end in sight. But we haven’t gotten there just yet, I will tell you my story of how we survived, starting with the morning after the accident.

I awoke the next day around 2 in the afternoon, had my daily waking up coughing fit, lit an L&M, threw on a shirt, some ratty jeans, and some flip flops. I stepped out the front door, with intent to check the mail, but halfway to the box I noticed things were not exactly kosher. Cars were careening recklessly down the street, paying no mind to the 25mph speed limit. A Police officer came to a screeching halt in front of my mailbox. The officer, who stepped out, was a friend of my parents and I’d known him for a while. He left the cruiser running as he hastily jogged up to me.

“Mike, what the hell is going on? Aren’t you going to do something about those people hauling ass down a residential street?” I said.

“Listen Steve!” He yelled. “You gotta get out of town! Something bad has happened I’ve never seen anything like it. You and your brother gotta get to your parent’s place! Get some # and go! No time for questions!” With that, he let go of me, and jumped back in his cruiser, and roared off lights flashing, and siren wailing.

I ran into the house, to my brother’s room. He was sound asleep. I shook him.

“Darrel, you gotta get up now! Something bad is happening, we gotta leave town! Pack some #, I have to call somebody!” He mumbled something as I left the room, but I didn’t pay any attention picked up my phone, and dialed our parents, all I got was some robot bitch saying “We’re sorry, all lines are busy right now, please hang up and try again.” I tried three or four more times, but all I got was the robot bitch.
“#!” I said to myself as I sat down and lit a cigarette. What could have happened? Are we at war or something? I turned to the computer. ‘Wonder if the internet is up?’ I thought. 4 little bars at the corner of the screed assured me that it was. I went to my favorite conspiracy site, an excellent place for breaking news, oddly. The first headline read: Zombie Outbreak! Government project gone wrong? Under it was: Zombie virus, or effects of Fukushima? Then another read: Just saw Zombie Alex Jones infects Piers Morgan! And one last one from one of my favorite posters vanquisher96 titled: Zombie Heiroglyphs found at Great Sphinx, Machu Pichu, and in caves of Native Americans! Scrolling down the page, every thread was about zombies. Then I realized that my brother was still not up. I went back and woke him a second time, this time he actually rose from bed.

“What the # is going on man?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“You’re going to think I’m nuts, but it looks like zombies.” I said, as he started to laugh.
“Oh, you bastard. You woke me up for a crappy joke?”
“Look at the screen here, notice anything?”
“Yeah, zombies, but this is a conspiracy website. I’m going to check the actual news.” He punched a few letters on the keyboard and CNN.com was all zombies. So was Huffington Post, MSNBC, Info wars, Natural News, National Enquirer, BBC, even The Onion. Youtube had over four hundred thousand zombie videos posted in the last 24 hours. PETA had announced that it was immoral to kill Zombies. Barnes & Nobel, along with Chapters, and various other bookstores had sold every copy of the Zombie Survival Guide in 3 hours.
“We’d better get out of town.” I said shakily.
“Yeah. I’ll throw some clothes in a bag, get your gun and ammo, and all the canned goods we have and get to your car, I’ll meet you there with the clothes.”
I dashed to my room and pulled an old .50cal ammo box out from under my bed, I opened it and grabbed my .38 revolver, the box of ammo I had, and the four hundred dollars I had for emergencies. I loaded the gun and tucked it into my belt. I Went to the kitchen and filled a garbage bag full of canned goods, ramen noodles, peanut butter, and everything else I could find. Then I ran out to the car and threw it all in the trunk. My brother was coming out of the front door about that time. The Firebird Roared to life as my brother threw the bag of clothes into the back seat and got in. We shot down the street, swerving to avoid cars, debris, and pedestrians. We were easily doing over one hundred when as we left town.

I'll add more if you want me too.

Note on short story. Although I use some things from life to make writing my stories easier, No connections to real persons, living or dead, are intended, as this is a work of fiction (obviously)