Zombie Microfiction: Last Stop Z

One shift selling kicks and one flipping burgers left Leon drained. On his bus, he just put on his Beats, played his list, and napped through a dozen stops. Oblivious to the biters and blood, when the driver made his turn, Leon just pulled the wire for his stop.

Zombie Nanofiction - The Hand

THE HAND

Something dead was in the middle of the street. It had attracted a whole murder of hungry crows. They were pecking at it, screeching at each other, and fighting over it. It was a human hand. I looked around for a human. But, no one I saw fit that description anymore.

I fought back my bile. I didn't tell anyone. Karen was driving. Vijay was in back desperately trying to stop Charan's bleeding. I kept my finger indexed along the slide. I kept my muzzle pointed down. We needed to reach the hospital. If there still was one. 

A murder of crows - Photo By liz west from Boxborough, MA (murder of crows) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Zombie Flash Fiction - Waiting

Waiting

Jeb decided that the world was going to need more butter beans.  That's why he spent all morning putting up extra poles, stringing lines between them, and laying out a half-dozen rows for planting them.  He had a bucket full of pole beans ready to plant.  But, it was hot and Jeb was an old man.  He needed to sit for a spell.  That's why his house had a front porch with built in ceiling fans.

Myra had made him some lemonade.  She was a good woman, but she was nervous wreck.  It was a good thing she had plenty of preserves to put away.  It kept her busy and stopped her from speculating about the news out of Atlanta.  The latest news from up there just didn't make any sense.

Earlier in the week, all the government officials and medical experts were confident that they could simply round up and treat all the crazy people.  It was a disease they said.  They were telling folks not to shoot the afflicted.  But, Betty had said the afflicted were out trying to bite people.

"Y'all just need to get in your van and come on down to the homeplace," Jeb remembered telling her on the phone.  "Just round up Robert and the kids and you drive on down here as fast as you can."

Jeb didn't really take to Robert.  He was a trifling husband who needed a haircut and a real job.  But, Betty said they were coming.  Now, there was nothing to do but sit on the front porch swing, look down the road, and wait.  Jeb wiped the sweat from his brow and had a sip of lemonade--a nervous sip.

[For the next Chronicle of Jeb story, read "Something You Oughta Know."

Zombie Nanofiction - Daily Scrum of the Dead

Alright Spike, what did you do yesterday that contributed to this supply sprint?

We brought in 12 cases of bottled water from the drug store.

What were your obstacles?

About four dozen biters in the store and a pair of bandits outside.

What are you going to do today?

Go back, load up more supplies, get Tanya, make sure she's really dead, bring her home, and bury her.

Do you see any obstacles or impediments today?

Well, our team is short one member and we know one of the biters now.

Zombie Drabble - Faster

Here is a bit of zombie nanofiction (100-word Flash Fiction) that I originally posted over on the Zombie Squad Forum. Enjoy!

Faster

I ran with her, I  trained her, I encouraged her, and I even slept with her when her  husband was away on business.  But, her training regime was never going  to work, she wouldn’t cut back on all her fancy iced coffees.  She blew  off aerobic workouts regularly.  She huffed and she puffed, but she paid  me.

I bet she doesn’t worry about her husband’s pretty  receptionist now.  Her protein diet and her half-assed workouts don’t  matter.  Back when we had a hundred dead people shuffling along behind  us on our run, only one thing truly mattered. I was faster.

Photo by Ed Yourdon [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)]