Zombie Drabble #298 “Lake Trout”

There was a platform out on the lake. You know, the kind the kids dive off, the girls sunbathe on in the summer. I’d taken the rowboat out there a couple times, tied up to it, fished from a lawn chair. It seemed the obvious place to wait this out.

I brought the nice all-weather camping tent, full cooler, a couple changes of clothes, fishing supplies, toiletries — anything I thought I’d need. That was two weeks ago.

Zombie shows up on shore somewhere, gets its feet wet, it turns around. My only worry: what will I do when winter comes?

Zombie Drabble #297 “Sometimes The Answer Is No”

Dear Lord, please, oh please make the zombies go away. Please. If you make the zombies get away from the door I'll do anything. I'll become a priest. I'll stop drinking. I'll be nicer to Mom. And no more chronic masturbating. I mean it. I never ask you for anything, but I’m asking now: you have to save me. You have to. I’ll be a better person, I’ll be worth it, I promise. Oh God, please let the door hold.

Why didn’t I hang a stronger door? I knew when I bought this place the door was cheap. Why, God?

Zombie Drabble #296 “Avoidance Tactics”

There were zombies in the alley below and on the roof above. She climbed down one more level of fire escape and peered through the dirty windows into an unfamiliar apartment. She saw no one and the front door was closed, chained.

Breaking a window would make noise, and noise attracts attention —and while the walking dead didn’t appear to be very good at climbing, they’d be at the inside door soon enough. Maybe before they broke through it the ones in the alley would have cleared out…

Even if not, she might be safe for an hour, maybe even longer.

Zombie Drabble #295 “Bastion”

“That’s the last one,” Penelope said, “and it’s warm.”

“I know. I was gonna wait until winter: leave it outside, let it get cold, then drink it, but…”

“Can’t wait that long?”

“Might not be alive come winter.”

“True. But do you really want the last beer you ever drink to be warm?”

He shook his head. “Somebody out there’s still making beer. Maybe there’s a fortified distillery somewhere.”

“With solar-powered refrigerators?”

Yes. And maybe they make pizza too. If you can make beer, you can make bread. Tomatoes aren’t hard to grow.”

“You’d need cows, for the cheese.”


Zombie Drabble #294 “Gastronome”

It wasn’t interested in me, it had secured its meal already: the top half of our postman, Frank. The bottom half had apparently been torn away and carried off by other zombies.

It’s interesting behavior. They don’t like eating in a pack: they secure a hunk and they take it away, eating as they go. They might come back for more, if they’re still hungry and there’s any left.

This one had scored the motherlode: Frank was a big guy. Not all fat, lots of muscle too. I think you’d have to call him ‘marbled.’

Jesus, what am I saying?

Zombie Drabble #293 “Wave”

They slowly emerged from the treeline, taking form amidst the swaying leaves and branches, and shuffled into the clearing. “Rick: climb down and go find Stew—”

“I’m eating.”

“Rick. You know those things we’re supposed to watch for while we’re on watch?”

Rick turned and lifted his head to look over the parapet’s edge. “Fuck. All right.”

By the time Rick and Stewart emerged from the longhouse there were more than a dozen zombies headed across the clearing, and more appearing from within the trees every minute. He stage-whispered down to Stewart, “Will somebody hand me up a goddamn crossbow?”

Zombie Drabble #292 “Reclamation”

There were bullet holes — in the door, and the wall, and even in the tile floor at the foot of the stairs — and scattered around the floor were dozens of brass cartridge casings. Someone with a cache of ammunition had made a stand in this apartment building, sometime after the day. Soon after, maybe even on, judging by the complete lack of fortification that had been done.

Zombies eat people. They don’t eat guns or ammunition, and they don’t police either up when they finally depart, hungry again, chasing some appetizing aroma on the wind. Riley started up the stairs.