The Undead That Saved Christmas Vol. 2 (25 page)

Eric noticed Mark relax. Looking back he realized the zombie Santa’s weren’t following them, and instead were hovering. They were trying to stay close to something, or at least it appeared that way.

“Alright, what did you do?” Eric held a bat in his hand and glared at Mark which such loathing; Mark wet his pants a little.

“Okay, geez. You act like it’s the end of the world or something. All I did was give those guys out there something to alter their DNA. I planned it for the parade. My hope was that they would attack all the parade watchers. Kill a few people, get some bad press, and presto! No more mall Santa’s.”

Eric stared at him with absolute disbelief. “All of this over mall Santa’s?”

“You have no idea how cruel some of them can be…a mall Santa ruined my childhood. I needed revenge.”

“You know there isn’t even a word for how crazy you are.”

“You don’t understand…”

Eric watched the zombie Santa’s, then looked back at Mark.

“Tell me what they’re trying to find.”

“I might have made a device which emits an annoying noise to them. One that, might even enrage them. You might find it under the tree.”

Eric shook his head and clocked Mark as hard as he could. The man went down like a sack of potatoes.

“Alright guys, we need to find the device and finish these things off. Cassie, you look at the items by the tree. If you find anything electrical smash it. Carlos, Tony, and I are going to form a barrier between you and them.”

Cassie nodded her head slowly. Eric noticed her face pale as he spoke. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders.

“Cassie you can do this, you know why? You’re a real estate agent now. You have your license. You’re not going down like this.” Eric watched a spark appear in Cassie’s eye, and made them move before she lost it.

The small team came out swinging. Eric swung his bat knocking one of the heads clear off and down into the food court a good seventy feet away. Carlos sliced the neck open on one causing the head to fall to the side, hanging on by a thin shred of flesh as the body fell. Tony brought his bat down direct center through one of the zombie Santa’s heads, it split open like a ripe melon. As the body sunk to the floor Tony kicked it to the side.

Eric watched Cassie rifle through the fake presents and other items spread all over the place during the struggle. They had five un-dead Santa’s left to deal with. They seemed to be getting angrier and Eric hoped Cassie found the device quickly.

“I got it!” Cassie yelled, as she smashed the device on the floor.

Instantly the zombie Santa’s calmed down. Eric counted, only four remained. They were easy targets now since they weren’t fighting back.

Eric wanted to see if he could make another head go farther. Taking his time he got into a proper stance and swung. The head tore off and flew almost ninety feet down the corridor. Eric smiled and glanced around to see if the others were as impressed with his work as he was.

He saw Tony splitting another head like a melon, and Carlos knocking one to the ground, and slowly decapitating it with his hockey stick. Eric made a mental note to keep an eye on Carlos, he had some definite anger issues.

Eric put the last one out of its misery with a simple crack to the head. He watched as it fell limply to the ground.

“Did we get them all?” Carlos jumped around and poked things with his hockey stick.

Eric searched; sure there had been one more. A moment later they heard a scream come from the sports store. They ran inside and found Mark. Most of his insides were outside, and a zombie Santa sat next to him gnawing on his kidney.

Eric nodded. “I knew there was one missing.”

Eric walked over to it and grabbed a bowling ball from a sales rack. He let it drop on the head of the zombie Santa. The head completely disintegrated, and the ball sat in lieu of the head. He looked at Mark, knowing he should be dead, but wasn’t. His eyes rolled and his body twitched.

Tired of this day, and ticked his parade had been ruined by the jackass on the ground in front of him, Eric stomped Marks’ head until it resembled a pulpy mess.

When he finished he turned to look at his team. “Well, guess the parade’s cancelled.”

Cassie, Carlos, and Tony stared at Eric blankly. Then they turned and started to walk out of the mall. Eric chased after them.

“Hey, we should do this again next year. The Santa thing, not the zombie one.” No response.

“Well, at least we saved Christmas?”

Eric stopped talking after that.

Story Art Cover

Ian Kobe

www.squidsicle.com

Dedication

For my aunts and uncles who never stop believing.

Author Bio

Eloise J. Knapp
is an avid zombie enthusiast, writer, and photographer. She is currently pursuing a degree in graphic design and writing a sequel to The Undead Situation.

Believe, Annie

By Eloise J. Knapp

December 23
, 2011. 5:40pm

“Fifty bucks? What, you think I pick money off of fuckin’ trees, Annie? Get out of here!”

Karl belched, cracked open another beer, and turned the TV volume up a few more clicks. If there ever was a stereotypical white trash stepdad, it was Karl Gunter. Annie knew her mom had been unbelievably desperate after dad died, but seriously. Karl? He had a lifetime relationship with welfare, which was fine if you actually need it, but the only thing stopping him from getting a job was himself.

And he’d been grossly sick for the past two weeks, making it impossible to get into any sense of the Christmas spirit. When not being his usual jerk self, he was hacking up dark, blackish-yellow mucus into the sink (without rinsing it down, of course) or blowing snot into Mom’s Christmas blankets and towels.

To her right, on the mantle, the singing Christmas fish broke out into song. Its rubbery body flipped on its dusty wood plank. Billy, her mom called it, had a case of ruined circuitry from being stored in a musty attic and now sang whenever he pleased. No one had to push the button for him to grace you with a Christmas carol.

You’d better not pout, you’d better not cry
…

At least someone was happy it was almost Christmas. Mom loved Billy more than any other Christmas decoration, but Annie never had a clue why.

“Daniel has been looking forward to the Christmas Festival for months. My mom said you guys could spare some money to—”

“You deaf? I said get out of here!” As his voice escalated, he delved into a coughing fit.

Annie also knew Karl and her mom had a joint bank account, which he took the liberty of managing. If Annie or her mom ever needed money, they had to go through
him
to get it. Dad never would’ve done that. Karl was just a controlling jackass.

You’d better not shout, I’m telling you why
…

She turned on the heel of her sneaker and kicked empty beer cans and cigarette cartons on her way back to her room, intent on crying her heart out, though it never made her feel any better.

* * *

Daniel, her younger brother, must’ve heard the whole fight through their paper-thin walls because he knocked on her door ten minutes later with a cup of instant hot chocolate with a mini candy cane hooked around the side of the mug.

He confided in her each weekday on their walk home from school about how much he wanted to attend the town’s Christmas Festival. Annie knew it wasn’t going to be that special since she’d attended when she was young; fake Santa, cheap store-bought sugar cookies, Mr. Richard’s mule with antlers tied to his head. But Daniel wanted to see Santa more than anything, and have his picture taken with him.

When she opened the door and he handed her the drink, she began her spiel on how sorry she was that they couldn’t go. Instead of whining or crying like any other kid would do, Daniel merely shook his head and said, “I understand,” and went back to his room.

Outside of her room she heard Billy singing again. Red and green light shone underneath the wide gap between the linoleum and the door to her room. Karl laughed hysterically at whatever stupid show he was watching.

Admission to the Christmas Festival was fifteen bucks each; then it cost an unreasonable twenty to get a single photo taken. Annie had no money—no jobs in the small town to be had by a sixteen year old—otherwise she would’ve paid for it herself.

Sometimes she wished she had the Christmas spirit like Daniel, that belief that there was a magical fellow who could make you unbelievably happy that one day of the year. That belief that Swiss Miss and candy canes could cheer up anyone.

This Christmas, out of all others, made her feel the most desperate and hopeless. Annie gulped down the hot chocolate that tasted strongly of defeat.

Tears in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around a pillow and sobbed without sound until she fell asleep.

December 24
^th
, 2011. 10:23am

Mom didn’t come home from work. At some point during her graveyard shift at the nursing home she called Karl. Annie knew this because she checked the call log on the phone and saw the number; Karl must’ve answered it because there was no voicemail. It wasn’t like her to simply
not
come home, and Annie needed to make sure she was safe. Even if that meant speaking to her stepfather.

But when she exited the kitchen and walked around the couch, it was apparent Karl would have no answers. He was coated in a viscous, shining layer of sweat. His chest rose and fell just enough to indicate he was still alive. Black spider webs of veins started from his eye sockets and corners of his mouth, reaching outward as though taking over his entire face.

“K-Karl?”

Annie jumped as Billy began singing
Jingle Bells
. She turned and walked towards the mantle, yanking him off and searching for the hard power switch on the back. They’d had Billy for years, but the hard switch only worked 10% of the time; it was worth a try though since she didn’t want to listen to Christmas carols during another altercation with Karl. A moment later, she felt the atmosphere of the room change. The couch creaked.

 “K-Karl? K-Karl?” Her stepdad mimicked her voice in an inhumane way; it came from his mouth but it sounded exactly like her. Licking his lips, his voice changed into a gravely version of his own. “Gonna catch ya, gonna eat ya. Gonna catch ya, gonna ea—”

Karl wanted to kill her. Annie clutched Billy to her chest—fear coursing through her entire being—and stepped back from the monster in front of her.

“Annie, where’s mom?”

“Daniel, go back to your room. Go!”

Karl chose that moment to lunge towards her. The smell of old garbage cans and urine overwhelmed her as he closed the distance between them. Annie dodged to the side, tripping over an assortment of Christmas trains mom set up under the tree.

Dashing through the snow…

“Annie, where’s mom?” Daniel’s voice came from Karl as he had mimicked hers. Dark spittle bubbled from his mouth. A stream of chunky, green liquid made its way down his chin.

Daniel disappeared back into his room, going to the “secret spot” Annie established months earlier when Karl’s drunken yelling got physical. Hoping and praying Karl would follow her, she made a run for the door.

Laughing all the way, ha-ha-ha!

Her body shook as she jerked open the door with one hand. She had to get Karl out of the house, as far away from Daniel as she could. Annie bolted across the street, intent on going to their family friend’s house for help. There wasn’t much her tiny, weak frame could do to stop whatever Karl had in mind.

“Mr. Brayer! Help!”

Just as Annie made it across the street, a small blue car turned the s corner and began skidding. A thud came, then a crack. She stopped and turned in time to see Karl’s body fly fifty feet down the snowy street, landing at angles human bones aren’t meant to go.

Her relief vanished in a split second, however, when Karl’s body shuddered back to life. He righted himself on broken, wobbling legs, and came after her again.

December 25
^th
, 2011. 7:14am

Daniel and Annie were freezing to death. Best case scenario, they’d die of starvation or the elements. There were many worse ways to die though, so she couldn’t complain too much.

Yesterday was when it all started. The flu sweeping over the country had mutated into something no one could explain, and all those infected simultaneously turned crazy when they woke up. They were full of a bizarre, demonic rage. Most died within a couple days after they went bad; they died and came back, just as hungry for death and flesh as ever. Those who died before the virus could take them—from gunshots, cars, etc.—came back, too. Of the ten minutes of news Annie and Daniel watched in Mr. Brayer’s house, the term “zombie” was already being used.

It was Christmas morning. There would be no presents, no waffles for breakfast, no smiles. Instead, they lay quiet and motionless in the now deceased Mr. Brayer’s attic, hoping someone would do
something
.