Read Online Brains for the Zombie Soul (a parody) by Michelle Hartz - Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Hartz
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burial. Let us help.”
“But you’re--” one soldier tried to say, before
depositing the contents of his stomach in a nearby snow covered
bush.
“Zombies!” another soldier finished.
The lead Nazi zombie put his hands up to show he
was unarmed. The zombies who still had arms mirrored his gesture.
“Please,” he pleaded. “This wasn’t our choice. You won this battle
fair and square. We will help you, then let us go on our way, and
you can continue with your mission.”
“Our mission is to find a secret structure in
these mountains.”
“And so you will. You are close, less than a
day’s walk over that ridge.” He pointed to the horizon. “But
tonight, you need rest. Your troops need tended to. We don’t have
supplies, but if you have shovels, we can take care of your men who
are not doomed to our fate.”
The Nazi zombies and allied soldiers worked
together to bury the dead. The undead hunted for food and roasted
the meat over a fire. Together they shared a meal.
When the sun rose the next dawn, the zombies
went on their way, leaving the American troops to their mission.
Unfortunately, neither group was heard from again. The theory is
that a group of zombies are frozen in place wearing the shambles of
Nazi uniforms, sitting around piles of rocks marking the graves of
the fallen American soldiers. Later, they were joined in their
vigil by zombies with the flag of the United States of America
embroidered on their torn shirt sleeves.
(back to
TOC)
****
A Christmas Miracle
It was dark and snowy. His limbs were
freezing off. Literally. Without the blood coursing through his
veins, he didn’t have the body heat to stay alive.
The zombie hunters had been pursuing him for
hours. Luckily, the snow was falling so thickly that it covered his
blood splattered tracks in the snow as he ran away from the town.
He could hear heavy breathing behind him, and he realized the
hunters were catching up.
Up ahead, a light broke through the snowy fog
between the trees. If he was lucky, it was a barn that he could
hide in. If he wasn’t, it was a house filled with anti-zombie
zealots, ready to join in the hunt. Seeing no other alternative, he
took his chances and ran toward the light.
Soon he felt the gravel of the driveway beneath
his shoeless feet. He looked down to find that another frozen toe
had broken off sometime in the chase. Another piece of humanity he
will never get back. If it was warm enough for them to run, tears
would be falling down his cheeks.
Following the gravel towards the yellow glow,
soon he could make out the shape of a roof. It was a house,
definitely a residence. The curtains were drawn, but bits of light
escaped through the fabric at the sides. The owners of the house
were apparently still awake.
Next to the house sat two vehicles, one a small,
snow-covered car, the other something larger like an SUV or a
truck. There was no garage. In fact, he couldn’t even see a shed.
There was no place to hide.
He considered climbing a tree, but what would
happen to him if he slipped and fell. Even if he evaded the
hunters, he could break his back and be paralyzed yet still alive,
left to rot in the snow.
As he approached the house, he saw the
ramshackle state it was in. All the lights inside appeared to be on
because there was pretty much only one room. But smoke came from
the chimney, and he could almost taste the meal that he could smell
roasting inside. The aroma was distinct. His mother used to always
make the same meal for their Christmas back home, back before he
died. This family most certainly was roasting a goose. He inhaled
deeply. With mashed potatoes and gravy. Another whiff indicated
some green beans. And pie, a Christmas pumpkin pie.
Steeling himself for the worst, he knocked on
the door. Involuntarily, he cringed as it opened.
“My dear, you look awful. You poor thing. Come,
come inside.” The little old lady was holding only a towel. There
was no rolling pin in her hand, no cast
“But you’re--” one soldier tried to say, before
depositing the contents of his stomach in a nearby snow covered
bush.
“Zombies!” another soldier finished.
The lead Nazi zombie put his hands up to show he
was unarmed. The zombies who still had arms mirrored his gesture.
“Please,” he pleaded. “This wasn’t our choice. You won this battle
fair and square. We will help you, then let us go on our way, and
you can continue with your mission.”
“Our mission is to find a secret structure in
these mountains.”
“And so you will. You are close, less than a
day’s walk over that ridge.” He pointed to the horizon. “But
tonight, you need rest. Your troops need tended to. We don’t have
supplies, but if you have shovels, we can take care of your men who
are not doomed to our fate.”
The Nazi zombies and allied soldiers worked
together to bury the dead. The undead hunted for food and roasted
the meat over a fire. Together they shared a meal.
When the sun rose the next dawn, the zombies
went on their way, leaving the American troops to their mission.
Unfortunately, neither group was heard from again. The theory is
that a group of zombies are frozen in place wearing the shambles of
Nazi uniforms, sitting around piles of rocks marking the graves of
the fallen American soldiers. Later, they were joined in their
vigil by zombies with the flag of the United States of America
embroidered on their torn shirt sleeves.
(back to
TOC)
****
A Christmas Miracle
It was dark and snowy. His limbs were
freezing off. Literally. Without the blood coursing through his
veins, he didn’t have the body heat to stay alive.
The zombie hunters had been pursuing him for
hours. Luckily, the snow was falling so thickly that it covered his
blood splattered tracks in the snow as he ran away from the town.
He could hear heavy breathing behind him, and he realized the
hunters were catching up.
Up ahead, a light broke through the snowy fog
between the trees. If he was lucky, it was a barn that he could
hide in. If he wasn’t, it was a house filled with anti-zombie
zealots, ready to join in the hunt. Seeing no other alternative, he
took his chances and ran toward the light.
Soon he felt the gravel of the driveway beneath
his shoeless feet. He looked down to find that another frozen toe
had broken off sometime in the chase. Another piece of humanity he
will never get back. If it was warm enough for them to run, tears
would be falling down his cheeks.
Following the gravel towards the yellow glow,
soon he could make out the shape of a roof. It was a house,
definitely a residence. The curtains were drawn, but bits of light
escaped through the fabric at the sides. The owners of the house
were apparently still awake.
Next to the house sat two vehicles, one a small,
snow-covered car, the other something larger like an SUV or a
truck. There was no garage. In fact, he couldn’t even see a shed.
There was no place to hide.
He considered climbing a tree, but what would
happen to him if he slipped and fell. Even if he evaded the
hunters, he could break his back and be paralyzed yet still alive,
left to rot in the snow.
As he approached the house, he saw the
ramshackle state it was in. All the lights inside appeared to be on
because there was pretty much only one room. But smoke came from
the chimney, and he could almost taste the meal that he could smell
roasting inside. The aroma was distinct. His mother used to always
make the same meal for their Christmas back home, back before he
died. This family most certainly was roasting a goose. He inhaled
deeply. With mashed potatoes and gravy. Another whiff indicated
some green beans. And pie, a Christmas pumpkin pie.
Steeling himself for the worst, he knocked on
the door. Involuntarily, he cringed as it opened.
“My dear, you look awful. You poor thing. Come,
come inside.” The little old lady was holding only a towel. There
was no rolling pin in her hand, no cast
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