Box of Zombies: Rise of the Dead Volumes 1-3 (6 page)

Dead Girl’s
Blog

Wednesday, September 10
, 2014

It’s not like those stupid movies. The
Deaders haven’t overtaken the world—at least not yet. We still go to school. Our parents still work and go out to the country club and pretend to play golf when they are really there to socialize, impress one another and swill martinis. Us kids?  Well, we still go to football games and clubs and to the mall.

The
Deaders have become this weird, nagging environmental problem, like global warming or beach erosion. It makes good headlines, but it usually doesn’t touch you personally. That is. As long as you ‘re careful.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all of that. Unless you live under a rock, you’ve heard about it.

Geez. I can’t believe I let this happen. I made Tommy keep condoms in his glovebox (although the latex makes his little wiener break out), but didn’t think to make him check for Deaders behind the dunes. Obviously, our sex wasn’t all that safe.

I’ve been reading some stuff about what’s supposed to happen to a person once they’ve been infected. It doesn’t sound good.

I’m a little scared.

Monday, I go back to school. I hope
bigmouth Tommy hasn’t told anyone.

Posted at 09/10/2014
09:03:59 pm by deadgirl

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Dead Girl’s
Blog

Monday, September 15
, 2014

Tommy Barker,
that weasel. He told. He told everyone and what’s worse, he told what we were doing before it happened.

Cheryl Lindsey laughed. That slut. “I guess you’re not
gonna be Homecoming Queen this year,” she said.

It never dawned on me; but it’s
was true. I’ll probably not be around for Homecoming.

Or graduation. Or college.

Oh, crap.

I’m going to be a Deader.
A nasty, rotting Deader.

When I got home this afternoon, Cindy was in my room. I think she is already deciding which of my things she wants to keep and what she plans to throw out. My room is a lot bigger than hers. She’ll move right in once I’m gone.

Posted at 09/15/2015 04:14:09 pm by deadgirl
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Dead Girl’s Blog

Tuesday, September 16
, 2014

Something weird happened this morning when I was getting ready for school. First, I’ll tell you, I’m looking fairly sallow, like I haven’t been to the tanning bed in months. My skin is for shit and I’m wearing more makeup than normal. Anyway, the strange thing was, when I put on my lip-gloss, my lips just started cracking. Like chapped lips, but ten times worse. And this icky black stuff started oozing out.

I ran and told Mom and she gave me a tissue and said, “It’s only going to get worse, dear. Now don’t make me late for work.”  She’s an anchor for the local news, so she thinks she knows everything about everything because she can read some copy.

Oh well. School was long and I felt tired all day. Chloe and Sarah and the rest of the squad (except for Cheryl, who wants my spot as head cheerleader) pretended sympathy, but I heard them laughing when I got up from the table in the cafeteria and dumped my tray. I’m not sure why I got lunch anyway. I’m certainly not hungry for…pizza. Barf!

You know, the upside of this entire thing is this. I don’t think Tommy Barker will hassle me for another feel.

Posted at 09/15/2014
03:35:33 pm by deadgirl
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Dead Girl’s Blog

Friday, September 19
, 2014

Friday and no calls.
God, I ended up going to the mall with Cindy and her dumb friend Kendra, who is this fat little geek—not unlike my sister, BTW—who enjoyed detailing what I might experience next during my—transformation. Never thought I would resort to paling around with my weirdo 14 year-old sis on the weekends. I think I know what it feels like to be ugly now. I mean, I haven’t changed that much, but something is…off. These guys were trailing us in front of the A.E. store and when I turned around, they looked-well … surprised. And not in a good way. I suppose I still check out from behind okay

I guess I could blame it on
who I was with. That’s what I would have done a month ago, anyway.

OMG, I wish I were dead.

I mean all the way dead.

Posted at 09/19/2014
11:03:19 pm by deadgirl
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Dead Girl’s
Blog

Mond
ay, September 22, 2014

It’s more and more difficult to get myself together for school. This morning when I was brushing my hair, some came out.

Actually, a lot came out.

And some of my scalp.

I called Mom and she came in, smiling this big fake-assed smile and suggested I wear a hat today. I dug my pink Kangaroo golf cap ( that’s not especially cool any more, BTW) , then realized my blouse didn’t match, so I had to change it, also. Plus, my head sort of oozed this thick, yellowish crap from where the scalp had come off. I stuck a bandage over it.

I ended up late.

Do you know what it’s like to walk in late front of a class full of kids when you’re dead?

Somebody giggled. Now, I truly know what the losers felt like when I laughed at them and made those
snarky little comments.

For some reason, I haven’t been making so many clever little comments, lately. It’s like my brain isn’t working like it used to.

Gym class was a royal bitch from hell. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t run. I was slow. Awkward. I felt like a fool. It was like my muscles had forgotten how to function. And in volleyball, too. I lettered in volleyball last year.

Cheryl, that slut.
I heard her say, “Way to move, Lurch. Has rigor mortis already set in?”

Then after lunch, I went to my locker and saw that some wit had
written, “Audrey Scott has crotch rot” across the front.

Clever.

Anyway, I decided then to hell with it and left early. Another “plus,” if you can call it that, to this whole Deader thing is this—you don’t get into trouble for cutting class. But Cindy nearly had an aneurysm and went whining to Dad that I was getting special treatment because I’m turning into a zombie.

She’d better watch out. I’ll bite her and take her right down with me.

Actually, I am somewhat peckish.

Post
ed at 09/22/2014 02:45:11 pm by deadgirl
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Dead Girl’s
Blog

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Well, the school thing is over. It's too difficult to be ridiculed. Teased. Mocked. I've never been treated like that. It was as though they hated me. Cindy suggested they might just all be a little afraid. Of me. Of what they might become.

A lot of people would be glad to be done with school. I suppose I’m weird, though. It was fun when I was special. Being dead doesn’t make a girl feel special. It makes her feel nasty.

Plus, Cindy feels sorry for me, otherwise she wouldn’t have been so nice. They hate me for being different, just like I always hated people for being different..

Nobody calls.

My father switches off the news when I come into the room. I guess he thinks seeing footage of those Deaders might upset me. And those commercials—those bizarre funeral homes where they don't even put the dead in the ground because they are still up and walking around. “Now, your loved ones can be put away.”  People are so sentimental. They can't part with anything, even the dead. Like an old pair of shoes. You always hope they come back into style. Same way with the Deaders—you hold on to them and hope they come up with some sort of cure.

Those places show rolling green pastures, but they don’t actually show any
Deaders. Deaders aren't very pretty.

Posted at 09/30/2014
05:08:01 pm by deadgirl
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Dead Girl’s Blog

Saturday ,October
18, 2014

Someting
is going on with my head. It feels like I have maggots in there. Squirming. I canot always think of the words I want. I can't rememmber how to spel everything.

Stood for a
lomg time and looked at meself in the mirow. So ugly now. Bkack & sticky drool driped off me chin and I didn;t wipe it away, It doesn't matter.

Mom & Dad did not
cume into my ruum today. They hadRosey leave a steak on my dressser when she clened up. she crosses hersef when i lok at her & sayz some prayer in spannish.

The
steke was not cooked and it waz soo gode. I felt lik i had not eaten in 10o0 years.

I
lcked the blood from the plate and my fingers, two.

Posted at 10/18/2014
09:17:56 am by deadgirl
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Dead Girl’s
Blog

Tuesday
,October 21, 2014

dor
is lockt frum te outside.

Hard to
tink. harder to rite thsi—i ate the padz off of all me fingerz tips. Starving to fuking deth,

Roeys
brot those big ol diapers to me cauz this blak stuf is coommin out of my ass.

Carpetz
all ruined in hear

I
cannoot go to slep anymor. I twitch all the tim. never stop. Like a spaz.

Hungry. Stakes
do't make me full  lipz r gon. I ate thme in my sleep, suked on them. & my cheek.

Nobody
cals.

Posted at 10/21/2014
11:43:08 am by deadgirl
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Cindy99’s WP

Friday, October 31, 2014

Audrey cannot write anymore.

School has closed now, at least for a while, until they can get the number of Deaders under control.

Audrey bit Rosie's cheek off last night and made a run for it. Poor Rosie. Now, she'll be a Deader, too. Dad paid to have her sent back to Ecuador or wherever she came from.

It's sad. She has grandchildren.

Audrey. I felt odd,
kinda outside of myself when I saw her flash by my door. I had not seen her in weeks. It was like watching a scary movie, but here, the monster is my sister. And she can get you.

She stood in the front yard, naked save for a pair of Depends. Black stuff ran down her legs. It seemed to be oozing from all her openings—her ears, nose,
mouth. Her breasts, once the most popular set of tits at Lincoln High, BTW, hung like small empty pouches. Her ribs showed through where the skin had decayed or had been picked away. She’s lost all of her hair.

She twirled around and round on the lawn, her arms stretched out wide and she screamed.

She looked as though she was smiling at first, and then I realized her lips were completely gone.

I closed my blinds.

I don't feel as bad for her as I do for myself. I don't want to become like her.

Mom and Dad managed to get her back inside without being bitten. They looked scared and very tired and I think we will all be glad when this is over. Just like when Grandma had Alzheimer’s. At a point, it was just better if she were gone.  (I'm still sort of afraid
Grandma’ll show up, dead and even scarier than before.)   Anyway, Dad has called one of those places in the Upcountry. I overheard him telling Mom how expensive it is to keep her there, but they can't seem to let go just yet. They are going to use Audrey's college fund to pay for it. Someone is coming to pick her up tomorrow to take her there.

I've decided I don't want her room,
afterall. I hear her in there now, screaming, cursing. I hear things breaking.

You know, I've always been the smart one anyway. I swear
, if I've learned anything from this whole thing, it's never screw at the beach without checking behind the dunes first.

Posted at 10/31/2014
02:20:17 pm by cindy99
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**Incidentally, the misspellings in this blog-style short story are intentional. Although I have no prior experience with the living dead, I still must assume teenaged zombies are poor spellers.

Other releases by Donna Burgess

Solstice: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse

Darklands: A Vampire’s Tale

Breaths in
Winter: The Complete Collection of 32 Tales of Terror

Blackwater
: A Tale of Southern Horror

Biter: Rise of the Dead Vol.1

Hither to Our Disgrace

The Dancing Water: Ghost of Chernobyl

Dead Girl: Rise of the Dead Vol.2

Scarecrow John

The Blue Children: Short Vampire Fiction

The Light at the End

Dead Alive: Rise of the Dead Vol.3

Wandering Star

Inbetween: A Novelette of Terror

Ashes: A Collection of Dark Poetry

Soulmate

Twilight Poison: A Tale of Werewolf Horror

Freak Show: A Twisted Love Story

Spooked

Donna Burgess is an author of dark fiction and poetry who enjoys surfing, playing soccer, and painting. She has a deep affection for Monty Python, horror movies, Bruce Springsteen and baseball. Over the past two decades, her fiction and poetry has appeared in genre publications like
Weird Tales, Horror Express, Chizine
and many others. She is currently completing her MFA in Creative Writing.

Check her out on the web at donnaburgess.com.