Read Online Zombiez! by OJ Wolfsmasher - Free Book Online Page A

around to make sure nobody
heard him say “eek.” Thankfully, nobody did. There were advantages
to living in one's mom's basement.
    “Hey, Gator, long time no talk. Listen, call
me back. I can't believe this, but a guy came into my office asking
about you today. He inexplicably wants to get you to do some
appearances to promote his new energy drink. I tried to get him to
take someone less repellent, but he insisted on you. So call me,
um, Bro. Whatever.”
    Gator always thought she was making fun of
him when she used big words, but wasn't smart enough to pinpoint
exactly how. He looked back at the phone and saw himself, all manic
and open-mouthed. He was so amped he could barely breathe, and this
was pre-injection. It would take him over six minutes to regain his
composure enough to call back. All he kept saying was, he knew God
wouldn't forsake him forever, brahbro.

I
    “First of all, I don't want to hear any more
of this crap about zombification being an infection or a disease.”
said the tall man with the balding head and the shotgun, “I saw
those suckers crawl up out of the ground with my own eyes. Dead as
a stump, you'd better believe!”
    He should know, he was a doctor. Or at least
he had been – he was pretty sure in the past hour he'd
violated the Hippocratic Oath upwards of 50 times. He wiped some
bloody sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. All
eyes in the chapel were on him now; he had gotten the survivors
there, coordinated the barricading process, and currently held the
only thing in the room that resembled a weapon. He felt the weight
of their gaze on him, which is why he felt like he needed to say
something – the tension was too great with those
ever-moaning... things out there, surrounding the confined
stone space of the chapel like ants around a donut. Helpless
sheep, he thought, always needing to be told where to go.
Why were some of you running away from the only shelter in the
area? Where the hell were you going? Why am I suddenly responsible
for what happens to you, just because I happened to be in the area
and happened to have a shotgun?
    “Anyway, that doesn't matter,” he lowered his
volume a bit, “what matters, for now, is that I don't think they
can get in here.”
    Collective shock remained in the air, and
people for the first time began to take stock of the situation.
Even though some of them knew each other, nobody besides the doctor
had spoken a word in the 27 seconds since the doors were locked and
barricaded. People were having a hard time jibing their beliefs
about the world with what their eyes had just witnessed.
    “Actually,” answered a bespectacled
middle-aged man, continuing the argument he and the doctor had
started in the middle of the melee with the undead,
“'zombification,' as you say, is not possible. We MUST look for
possible explanations, to understand what we're dealing with here.
Time is of the essence. Our lives depend on it!” His arms were
crossed defiantly, and he did not seem to care about the gravity of
the situation as much as he cared about winning this clearly moot
dispute.
    “GLGGAAAGH!” a wild-eyed woman in the back
piped up, too angry to form words. She ran to the would-be
scientist, grabbing him by the lapels of his black trenchcoat and
foaming right at his glasses. She yanked him partially off his
feet, and he stumbled backward and braced himself against a stone
pew. He pushed back with angry force, dislodging her crazed grip
and sending her flying into a man in a dark suit who was holding a
briefcase.
    “Hey!” said the briefcase-carrying man as he
caught her in his arms to prevent her from falling.
    The scientist looked at the woman with a
combination of gentrified disdain and residual panic in his eyes.
“SHUTUP AND LET ME THINK!” he barked. He turned his back to her and
put his finger to his chin so everybody could see he was thinking
real hard. It was something he learned in Science.
    The ire of the wild-eyed