Today's #fridayflash piece is actually from an old flash fiction piece I wrote and had published in Pill Hill Press's Daily Bites of Flesh 2011. It's making its blog debut.
Zombies Don't
Exist
"Don't sneak up on me,
Edward!" Melinda whipped
around and smacked his arm.
"They're coming to get you,
Melinda." His laughter burst from him like air from a popped balloon.
"Braaaiiins!" groaned the movie
zombie.
"Did you think I was a
zombie?" While he jumped onto the couch, he poked her, causing her to
squeal.
"Zombies aren't real." She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Yeah, right." He
chortled and snatched a handful of buttery popcorn, shoving it in his mouth.
*
The axe whistled through the air and
struck with a resounding thud into its neck. Melinda yanked the weapon out and thwacked the zombie again. Its head bounced across the small cellar. The zombie lurched
toward her, and she embedded the black blood-covered blade into its thigh.
"Lure it to the flames, Mel,"
Edward yelled, flaring the torch. Within
seconds, the zombie collapsed into charred mush.
Both leaned against the door and listened
to the dull thumps on the other side. The heavy metal bolt locked in place.
"How did they find us?" Melinda dropped the axe upon the concrete floor.
"I don't know." The flames died down, plunging them into
semi-darkness. The reek of burned, long
dead flesh permeated the air. An acrid taste coated her tongue.
While rubbing his arm, Edward laughed. "I thought you said zombies aren't real."
"You're
never going to let me live that down, are you, Eddy? How was I supposed to know about the meteor and the alien zombie virus?" Those three words "zombies aren't real" had come to bite her
on the ass once again. She rolled her eyes and searched the cans for a
soda. The top popped audibly open, and she drank the
sweet, warm Diet Coke. "Want some lunch?"
"I'm not hungry." His stomach rumbled its own reply.
"Yeah, right. Come on.
I'll find us a can of beans." She ran her fingers along the shelves stocked with food rations.
"I don't want beans!" He kicked his heel against the metal
door. "I'm not hungry."
Several dings echoed his reply.
"Fine. Starve, Edward, if you must." She plopped down and gulped a spoonful of
cold beans. "They're not going to
let up any time soon. They might be
brain dead, but they aren't stupid."
"What does it even matter anymore? We're the only ones
left." He rolled the flesh along
his forearm.
"We don't know that." She froze, spotting the dark red blotch on
his sweatshirt. "What's that,
Edward?"
"What?"
"On your shirt?"
"It's nothing." His stomach grumbled.
She dropped the can upon the floor. All thoughts of food fled from her mind. "Show me your arm."
"It's nothing."
Bang.
Edward spun toward the door. "It
sounds like they found a battering ram."
"Your arm." She reached toward him. Her fingers brushed against the cotton fabric.
"Don't bother with it." He yanked the arm back, but not soon enough. The red welt oozed pus.
Bang.
"You've been bitten." Her hand encircled the axe's handle.
Bang.
"I'm hungry, Mel."
