Zombie Fallout

I see a tongue! Some asshole is licking my peephole.

Why didn’t I listen to my drill instructor from boot camp? He told us flat out, ‘Don’t EVER volunteer for anything! If you’re picked you go, but don’t EVER volunteer your worthless lives!’ Words to live by.

Take heed your actions lest ye become like the enemy ye seek to destroy.’

If you, the reader, really, REALLY, want to know what was going on in Little Turtle, go feed your dog or your neighbor’s dog some chili, slathered in hot sauce and maybe throw in some chocolate cake. Okay wait for it, WAIT. Now about a half hour later, your dog’s innards are pretty much going to rupture, so make sure he’s outside. Now while this steaming pile of shit is still warm and fetid, place it in a plastic shopping bag—DON’T TIE IT UP! Now place the carrying handles one on each ear and inhale deeply. You must walk around with this bag draped across your face continually. Is this starting to punch through? Now, every time the dog crap begins to harden up and lose some of its edge, go grab yourself another refreshing pile of fresh dog offal. While you are breathing deeply of this savory concoction, try to eat some enchiladas or maybe some lasagna. Oh hell, just try to sleep with that thing affixed to your face.

So let’s make sure we’re clear on this: Obviously the people that managed to get to the roof knew their lives were in danger. They had the presence of mind to climb to a safe haven and even to arm themselves as best they could. So far so good, but then one of the group decided that they might need some beverages to stave off thirst, still good. That person, fearing for his life, went to the beer section, which again is admirable, everyone knows beer is the nectar of the gods. But then he grabs Keystone Light? Are you kidding me? I’d rather eat the can than drink the contents.

My face was puffed out like I had been stung by a hive of pissed off bees; although that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, if a bee stings you, then, by nature, he’s pissed off. Right?

it looked like we had gone through a car wash designed by Stephen King.

Somehow it seemed nobler to die naked like a savage than with a terry cloth towel around my waist.

That person fearing for his life went to the beer section, which again is admirable, beer is the nectar of the gods. Then grabs Keystone Light? Are you kidding me? I’d rather eat the can than drink those contents.

I was moving like an epileptic on crack—shitloads of movement with no purpose—but

Tracy got the point. There weren’t too many words that started with ‘z’ that could instill so much panic, unless of course a murderous zebra was loose in Denver and she was in the way of some succulent wild grass. Tracy spun around to face the threat. Her foot slipped on the newly-spilled Pepsi. Her left leg shot out wildly as she plummeted to the ground. The expression on the zombie’s face changed from happiness to confusion as it wondered where its meal had gone. It was a beat or two before its eyes tracked down and locked back on its prey.

I couldn’t believe this guy was still alive. A field mouse would most likely send him shrieking into the night. Bad example, that would probably send me shrieking into the night, too.

Shouldn’t we help them?” my wife asked as she pulled her head back into the car, already looking better now that she’d emptied her stomach. I motioned that she had a little something on the side of her face. She lifted her hand to remove the offending detritus. “Uh, other side,” I explained. She missed again. I wiped my face again to show her where it was. “Forget the damn puke!” she yelled. “Shouldn’t we try to help?” “No,” I mumbled. “What? Speak up, I can’t hear your altruism,” she retorted acerbically.

Oh Jesus,” my wife muttered as we passed a small cluster just ravaging some poor soul.

coming and death trembles in her wake!” As recorded by Mike Talbot’s wife as he lay tossing and turning in a semi-state of

Yeah that’ll go over well. You better hope all the ammo is gone before you make that little proposition. Besides it won’t work.” Alex

It was like watching The Terminator. Sadly, we were the Sarah Connors in this remake. Tracy’s

I have two pet peeves in life. Well shit, if I’m being honest I probably have about seventeen, but who’s counting? In

What the hell is going on?” My adrenaline was pumping. My pet peeves were throbbing—all seventeen of them.

The walking dead weren’t in my back yard, but they were close. If they came through the gate now, this was going to be a short novella. My towel caught on the next-to-useless excuse for a lock on the door. I didn’t even stop to grab it. Somehow it seemed nobler to die naked like a savage than with a terry cloth towel around my waist. I