Here is the second part of chapter one of my crazy zombie story. Please keep in mind this is a first draft and though no revisions or editing were suppose to be done as part of the exercise I did revise a tiny bit, just a little. It was hard for me to let the writing flow and kept trying to edit and change every word I typed. This I blame on the current editing and revising I have been doing on other stories I am currently working on.
Feel free to point errors and grammar out for when I do get around to properly editing this story. 🙂
Warning: dry humor/sarcasm and rambling
The Dead Can Run
Chapter One Part Two
The glass must have been even cheaper than I had first thought, that or the freaking undead zombies were freakishly stronger than most of the movies had shown. My sweat running fingers reached for the keys and I hurried into the car locking the door with my elbow and struggling to insert the keys into the ignition. Zombies barricaded my car on all sides threatening to break my windows just like they had the glass doors. Their bloodied hands left smudges of wet blood on them and their lips spread further away from their teeth snarling like hungry dogs that got forced to participate in dog fights.
The windshield cracked and I cried.
I cried in fear and desperation. I did not want to die and much less turn into a zombie. I had enough problems to add the need to rip my son’s throat or any other human’s to the list. Another whimper escaped my lips as I shoved the key the rest of the way into the ignition and turned it. The gargling of teeth and moaning vanished under the comforting humming of the engine and I pushed the gear to drive.
My car sped forward and I swerved barely missing another parked car and the ensured death that would have followed. I would have become a movie cliché, crashing into a tree stump, light post, or any inanimate object in my hurry to escape to only seal my death from my stupidity. The zombies held on, a few crushing under the tires and my eyes wandered to the review mirror.
A sick feeling of happiness rushed through me as I pressed harder on the gas pedal and made a sharp turn. The disembowel zombies clawing on the parking lot resembled the coworkers that had brought me the most grief. As their image vanished so did the feeling to be replaced by morbid disbelief. I had to be in bed still dreaming and would soon wake up to curse for snoozing my alarm a second time.
It had to be.
This horror was unreal.
I stared at the zombies still clinging to my car and the blood stains of where more had been. I stared past the pieces of flesh stuck on the hood of the car and at the red light and car ahead. I braked, my foot slammed down on the brakes and my heart jumped out of my chest. The rest of the zombies went flying and smacked against the car.
I cursed for the second time. Being attacked by zombies and the need to follow the law didn’t mix well. There had to be an unspoken law that when flesh eating monsters, or any monsters in general, attacked the right to run through red lights was justified and understood. But somehow the unspoken law wasn’t universal. The driver of the car in front stepped out. I yelled for him to get back in and drive off, but his expensive suit and name brand car wouldn’t allow him to leave with a smashed bumper.
Instead now he wouldn’t leave at all. The zombies that had survived my driving lunged at the man and tore at his neck and chest. One zombie pulled his arm clean off. The moment the sound of bone braking reached my pulse pounding ears I knew it wasn’t a dream. The zombie licked and lavished the dripping blood from the torn ligaments before rushing back toward my car.
The torn arm banged against the hood of my car and my brain remembered it still had a body attached to it. In seconds I had backed up and sped past the carnage, past the last hope that I was dreaming. Tears welt up my face and my hand clumsily reached for my phone still in my purse. Cars weren’t blocking the road in numbers, zombies weren’t running across the fields on either direction, and smoke wasn’t rising in the air turning it into night. There was still hope, a different hope but hope nonetheless.
My fingers scrolled through my contacts and I dialed my mother. My son’s screams filled the quite tense air and my car hit 120.