You turn on your heel and get the heck out of there. Before you have time to say "Clearasil," you are surrounded by three extraordinarily dour looking teenage boys. They are standing close to you, but their faces have no expression. They have an odd, unwholesome smell, like Juicy Fruit and vinegar. "Step aside, fellas," you begin to push right through them, but they all grab you at the same moment, as if they had one mind between them. You wrench yourself free and run to the nearest public space- the corner pub. You rush to the bar and demand to use the phone. "There are some freaky kids out there and this little girl. I'm afraid she might be in trouble," you say. A burly character in a skeleton shirt turns to you, "let's go check it out," he says.
Soon, you have a little posse of people. You lead them back to the alley. The boys come lurching out of the darkness toward you, but they have greater numbers just as you do. You don't have time to count them all as the weird crowd comes abling your way. It's confusing. Then one of the boys grabs the burly guy and bites him right on the neck! Blood gushes everywhere and the poor guy howls in pain. Your posse panics, rightly, and people scatter. Some of them get caught by the weirdos and suffer the same fate. You hear a familiar voice calling to you from the stairwell. "Get over here!" hisses the burlap-clad girl. You go to her and she pulls you out of harm's way. "Light this for me, will you?" she hands you a book of matches and a bottle with a rag hanging out of the top. You light the rag and hand it to the girl, who lobs it into the melee with a firey crash. You keep the projectiles coming as the girl chucks them into the thinning zombie horde. "What is going on?" you demand when there's time to speak. "I have to destroy all of them before they get out of control," she sighs. You look at her bloodshot eye, "How do you know about this? Why is this your responsibility?"
She fixes you with a long gaze and opens her burlap cloak, revealing a wire mesh protecting a strange cavity where there ought to be bones and lungs and skin. A hideous rotting smell peeks out from her body. "He made me. And then he had to make them to keep me alive. They will spread their kind, but they will go back to him. Then he means to harvest the parts that still work and replace the parts of me that have...have..." She looks down, ashamed. You want to comfort her, and you reach for her hand. It feels like a glove slipping off. She starts and you realize that the skin of her hand has just come off of its bones. "I don't have much time left," she says. Oh, so that's why she couldn't light a match.
You survey the creatures recovering in the alley. "Are you sure you want to destroy them?" The girl looks exhausted, "more than anything," she breathes. There are no molotov cocktails left in the stairwell, but there is a gas can, still about half full. You take off your clothes and douse your shirt with fuel. "Stand back," you say, dropping a match. "When I say now, pick it up with my jeans and throw it at them," you tell the girl. You pick up the gas can and run into the midst of the zombies, who lurch toward you. You wait until the last possible second before throwing gas on them. "Now!" you yell, and your flaming clothes come flying into the knot of flamable undead. You have saved the day! The burlap girl is not looking too great. She collapses and you carry her into the basement room. She thanks you before perishing in your arms.
The End.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
The End.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
No comments:
Post a Comment