Zombie Drabble #30

“Rob? Is that you?”

The answer was a slow, soft knocking.

“Who is it!?”

She had seen the news reports; the apartment was locked up tight. Rob had gone to work that morning, but she was expecting him any minute.

“…Rob?”

The slow knocking continued. She was getting scared: what if it wasn’t him, what if it was a zombie?

She went and got the handgun from the closet, loaded it. What if it was Rob, and Rob was a zombie? She crept slowly back into the living room. “Rob?”

The door was already open. She glanced nervously around.

“Rob…?”

Zombie Drabble #29

It was without question the worst odor he had ever experienced; his midsection ached from the retching. Above him through the sheet metal ductwork he could still faintly hear the scratching and moaning. Of course they were gathered around the air vents, they could likewise smell him. It unfortunately meant that his breathing air passed around and through dozens of rotting but inexplicably animated corpses before reaching his nostrils. The old fallout shelter was virtually impenetrable, they would never get in, not in a million years. But how much longer could he stand the constant stench of rapidly decomposing zombies?

Zombie Drabble #28 “High Houses”

I guess it was about thirty years ago we started building on stilts. As you can imagine a house that stands seven feet off the ground, accessible only by ladder, is fairly difficult for a zombie to get into. When there were enough high houses, we started connecting them to each other with rope and plank walkways. It’s not like there’s any shortage of wood. Every week or so the sheriff and his deputies will pick off the zombies they can see through the gaps, and then climb on down and finish off the rest. Haven’t lost anyone in years.

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