Wake Up Dead - an Undead Anthology (19 page)

I know that she's right, but my belly has started to rumble again, and I drank all of the water that Daddy came home with last night. If we stay much longer I think we're all going to die. I think I've already lost weight, and I can hardly lift up my arm now because I'm weak.

Daddy has just been sick on his chin. It's not normal sick, though; it looks dark and sticky. I'm going to wipe it off before it makes a mess all over the bed, not that it matters. I don't think we are taking the bed with us when we make a run for Redrock.

Oh my God! Daddy has the infection. I am in my room, and have pushed my dresser across so that he can't get in. I think he wants to hurt me, the way that he just hurt Mommy.

She's dead! I know that she is, because he bit her nose off and she was bleeding all over the place. She didn't even scream when he did it. I think she was in shock.

Oh, please God, this is wrong! This is all wrong! My Daddy is trying to kill me now. I don't know how much more of this I can take, but I know that if I kill myself then I will not get into Heaven, so I have to try to live.

Daddy is slamming against the door now, but I know that it isn't really my Daddy; he has the forgetful disease, like the sky-starers, and he wouldn't be trying to hurt me if he remembered how much he loved me.

Oh please make it stop! Please!

I found Daddy's present under my bed. I forgot all about it, and it was still wrapped up. When I opened it, I found a gun and some bullets. Daddy would have loved it so much; he could have used it when he went out for water instead of that silly axe. He must have got bit then, and kept it from us because he thought that we would stop loving him if we found out.

Well, I would have still loved him.

I figured out how to put the bullets in. Daddy had shown me how last year. “Hopefully, you will never have to fire one of these, Flo,” he'd said, “but it's for the best if you at least know how.”

After putting the bullets in and aiming the gun at the door – it's a heavy gun; I need both hands to lift it up – I waited for a while. The banging had stopped, and I haven't heard anything from Daddy for some time now.

I'll give it a few minutes and then I'll go take a look. I'm heading for Redrock on my own now, and if God let's me, I'll make it.

I killed Daddy but only because I had to. He was coming at me, and his teeth were all covered with blood and black sick. I didn't want to, but I shot him once in the belly. He didn't fall over when I shot him; he just looked at me funny, as if he suddenly remembered that I was his little Florence, but then he came again, and I shot him in the head.

He fell over that time, and he didn't get back up. When he fell over, he landed on Mommy. I'm glad he landed on her like that, because her belly was wide open and I could see all of her insides. Daddy covered all of that up for me; a parting gift for his beautiful daughter.

I can see no wanderers outside, but that doesn't mean that they aren't there. I have Daddy's gun now, and a pocketful of bullets. If I can get to Redrock, then maybe everything will be fine.

Hey, I may even bump into Robbie on the way.

I'm going now, while it is quiet, and I'm leaving this diary behind because I know I will never want to read it again. The future, the one where I am laughing at my silliness, it's gone now.

Goodbye Diary.

God Bless.

Maybe I'll bump into Mrs Drewery, and I can teach her a lesson or two with Daddy's present.

AFTERWORD

Think back, if you will, to a time when the undead were the most feared creatures imaginable, a time when the mere thought of somebody you love returning from beyond the grave would cover you with gooseflesh and send you running for the hills. A time before zombies could run quicker than Usain Bolt, and vampires had the propensity to sparkle whenever they decided to get a tan. The Golden Age of the Undead, or as I like to call it, anytime before 1990. The stories contained within this anthology, I hope, have terrified you the way the original Night Of The Living Dead terrified a whole generation when it was released back in 1968.

I would like to thank each and every one of the authors who contributed to this book, and to you, the fans of the undead, for reading this book and continuing to support the authors contained within its blood-soaked pages.

Without you, we are nothing but worm-food waiting to expire.

But we all know, that death is just the beginning...

ADAM MILLARD

WWW.CROWDEDQUARANTINE.CO.UK

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