One Less Human
Chapter 10 of the novella, “Zombies of the Red Descent,” by Jason Earls
http://zombiesofthereddescent.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/user/zevi35711
Eighty-five miles per hour. Almost daybreak. The Mercury’s motor was wound tight. No streetlights were shining on the highway. Maxine was dead asleep and snoring heavily. The gas gauge was registering dangerously low. Alex’s eyes blinked heavily, he had been fighting to stay awake for hours. He noticed a farm house with lights on ahead. He jolted, his adrenaline surging from the thought of finding other people like him.
“Look,” he said. “Maxine, wake up. There’s a house with lights on up ahead. Maybe there are some people inside. Real people.”
She groaned and leaned up. “W-where?”
He pointed to a large two-story farm house surrounded by a wheatfield and a combine parked not far away. Yellow lights glowed from its curtainless windows. There were no zombies in sight.
“P-Pull in,” she said. “G-go ahead.”
Alex stared at her, attempting to gauge her health and state of mind. He knew the red chemicals could push her into full zombie mode without her being able to prevent it. He suddenly became aware of this fact and didn’t know why it had not registered earlier. He watched as she rubbed her eyes with her shaking grayish-blue hands.
Stopping the Mercury a block from the farm house, he stared at the glowing windows for a moment. No movement inside. Only old furniture visible. An ancient sofa. The edge of the dining room table. A television. A few old pictures on the yellowing walls.
“Stay here,” he said.
He clicked the car door shut and crept lightly and vigilantly through the blackness to the largest window on the west side. He stuck his nose to the bottom of the glass and peered in.
A man was sitting at a large dining room table, cradling his head. His face was showing red through his fingers, but it wasn’t the red of the Red Descent – his skin seemed colored red from intense anger. Alex’s eyes went to the .357 Magnum laying in front of the man’s elbows, then to the man himself: He was slightly overweight, wore a blue flannel shirt, had short graying hair and multiple cuts on his knuckles.
Should I go in? Alex thought. He doesn’t look infected. But what about the gun? Plus he looks upset. He looked down at the grass, then back to Maxine in the Mercury. He rubbed his beard. Fuck it, I’m going in.
He snuck around to the back door. It was standing wide open. He knocked on the door frame and spoke in a loud clear voice: “Hello. Anybody home? My name is Alex O’Haney. I’m a human and I’m not infected. Is anyone home?”
No response.
“Can I come in? Hello in there.”
“Go away!” A deep baritone voice called out, loud and full of rage.
“But we need help. Food and fuel.” Alex took three steps inside. “We can work out a way to pay you for it.” He walked through the kitchen to the dining room, looked down and gasped.
The body of a woman was lying on the floor next to the dining room table. She had blonde hair and wore a green dress. A long mass of stringy red guts were extending from the middle portion of her back, and a U-shaped pool of partially dried blood surrounded her legs.
Her back injury, the meat hanging from it, looked completely unreal.
Alex looked away and tried to ignore the corpse and focus on the man sitting at the table.
“Hello,” said Alex. He tried to decide whether he should ask about the body on the floor. “My name is Alex O’Haney. Who are you?”
The man didn’t respond or look up. He lowered one hand from his face, curled his fingers around the .357. Alex noticed a book on the table near the center. A large book. He stepped closer and read the title: Malleus Maleficarum and underneath: “The Hammer of Witches” (Hexenhammer). What the hell kind of book is that? Alex thought. A book on witchcraft? He didn’t want to ask the man about it so he switched subjects.
“I have a person out in my car,” Alex said. “She’s partially infected by the red powder. We’re searching for a cure.”
A smirk curled up on the man’s lips.
“Have you heard about any scientists working to fix this? Do you know of any laboratories around?”
The man lifted the Magnum, thumbed his nose like a boxer, then narrowed his eyes. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk.
I should acknowledge the woman on the floor, thought Alex. Maybe that will motivate him to speak. “Is that your wife laying there?”
The man’s head jolted up, rage in his eyes. “It used to be my wife!”he shouted, glaring hard into Alex’s face. “Those fucking freaks killed her! Those goddamn zombies! They mauled her to death!” He slammed his fist down hard on the table.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Alex said. For the first time he noticed the torso of a zombie on the floor, its body protruding from a doorway several feet ahead with half of its skull missing. “Are you infected, sir?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Do you know of any other people who are not infected?”
“I heard there is a lab over in Hatchberry,” said the man, rising from his chair. “Supposedly some scientists are over there working on this problem. Hatchberry is about 150 miles east of here. Norton Research Labs, I think it’s called.” He stared down at his wife’s corpse on the floor. His eyes widened.
“Thanks very much. That’s exactly what I wanted to know.”
The man didn’t say anything.
“Do you mind if we stay here tonight?”
He could see that the man was not listening. He stood up from the table and moved over to his wife’s corpse. Standing over her body, he examined the mass of stringy red organs extending from her mauled back and he looked at the large pool of blood surrounding her. Alex watched the man’s face twist into a state of complete rage.
“They mauled the guts right out of her back!” he screamed. “They killed her, my first and only wife! Those goddamn red chemically damaged sons-of-bitches!” His voice was loud and unhinged. He stomped and waved the 357.
Alex tried to console him. “Calm down, sir. Just take it easy. We’ll try to help you.”
“Fuck that! How could you! How could you possibly help me now!”
The man went over to the table again and sat down.
Alex waited a full minute before he spoke. “I’m going out to get Maxine. She’s the woman in my car. Do you mind if we sleep on your floor, just for tonight?”
The man bolted up from the table and ran over to the wall. He started slamming his head into the panelling repeatedly and a picture of Jesus Christ crashed to the floor.
“Take it easy!” yelled Alex. “Sit down for awhile, sir. Just try to relax.”
The man stopped beating his head, turned around and stared at Alex, gasping for air.
Alex looked at the man and saw some of the rage flow out of his face. Then he turned and went through the kitchen. Just as Alex stepped off the back porch, a loud pistol shot blasted throughout the countryside.
He stopped and quickly ran back into the house.
The man’s head was face down on the table with the back of it completely blown off, a barrage of splattered blood and brains now staining the wall next to an old wedding picture of the man and his wife.
-end-
(Thanks for reading. This is chapter 10 of the novella, “Zombies of the Red Descent.” You can purchase the full version here: http://tinyurl.com/a7p7vw If you now of any magazines that would like to publish this story, please contact the author: zevi_35711@yahoo.com. Also, you would be helping out the author greatly if you purchased one of his books from Amazon.com or another online book store of your choice. Regards.)
http://becomeguitaristfromhell.blogspot.com/
http://zombiesofthereddescent.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/user/zevi35711
Bio: Jason Earls is the author of Cocoon of Terror (Afterbirth Books), Heartless Bastard In Ecstasy, How to Become a Guitar Player from Hell, Zombies of the Red Descent, If(Sid_Vicious == TRUE && Alan_Turing == TRUE) {ERROR_Cyberpunk(); }, Red Zen, and 0.136101521283655... all available at Amazon.com and other online book stores. His fiction and mathematical work have been published in Red Scream, Yankee Pot Roast, M-Brane SF, Scientia Magna, three of Clifford Pickover’s books, Mathworld.com, AlienSkin, Recreational and Educational Computing, Escaping Elsewhere, Neometropolis, Thirteen, Dogmatika, Prime Curios, the Online Encyclopedia of Integer Sequences, OG’s Speculative Fiction, Nocturnal Ooze, Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens and other publications. He currently resides in Oklahoma with his wife, Christine.
Chapter 10 of the novella, “Zombies of the Red Descent,” by Jason Earls
http://zombiesofthereddescent.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/user/zevi35711
Eighty-five miles per hour. Almost daybreak. The Mercury’s motor was wound tight. No streetlights were shining on the highway. Maxine was dead asleep and snoring heavily. The gas gauge was registering dangerously low. Alex’s eyes blinked heavily, he had been fighting to stay awake for hours. He noticed a farm house with lights on ahead. He jolted, his adrenaline surging from the thought of finding other people like him.
“Look,” he said. “Maxine, wake up. There’s a house with lights on up ahead. Maybe there are some people inside. Real people.”
She groaned and leaned up. “W-where?”
He pointed to a large two-story farm house surrounded by a wheatfield and a combine parked not far away. Yellow lights glowed from its curtainless windows. There were no zombies in sight.
“P-Pull in,” she said. “G-go ahead.”
Alex stared at her, attempting to gauge her health and state of mind. He knew the red chemicals could push her into full zombie mode without her being able to prevent it. He suddenly became aware of this fact and didn’t know why it had not registered earlier. He watched as she rubbed her eyes with her shaking grayish-blue hands.
Stopping the Mercury a block from the farm house, he stared at the glowing windows for a moment. No movement inside. Only old furniture visible. An ancient sofa. The edge of the dining room table. A television. A few old pictures on the yellowing walls.
“Stay here,” he said.
He clicked the car door shut and crept lightly and vigilantly through the blackness to the largest window on the west side. He stuck his nose to the bottom of the glass and peered in.
A man was sitting at a large dining room table, cradling his head. His face was showing red through his fingers, but it wasn’t the red of the Red Descent – his skin seemed colored red from intense anger. Alex’s eyes went to the .357 Magnum laying in front of the man’s elbows, then to the man himself: He was slightly overweight, wore a blue flannel shirt, had short graying hair and multiple cuts on his knuckles.
Should I go in? Alex thought. He doesn’t look infected. But what about the gun? Plus he looks upset. He looked down at the grass, then back to Maxine in the Mercury. He rubbed his beard. Fuck it, I’m going in.
He snuck around to the back door. It was standing wide open. He knocked on the door frame and spoke in a loud clear voice: “Hello. Anybody home? My name is Alex O’Haney. I’m a human and I’m not infected. Is anyone home?”
No response.
“Can I come in? Hello in there.”
“Go away!” A deep baritone voice called out, loud and full of rage.
“But we need help. Food and fuel.” Alex took three steps inside. “We can work out a way to pay you for it.” He walked through the kitchen to the dining room, looked down and gasped.
The body of a woman was lying on the floor next to the dining room table. She had blonde hair and wore a green dress. A long mass of stringy red guts were extending from the middle portion of her back, and a U-shaped pool of partially dried blood surrounded her legs.
Her back injury, the meat hanging from it, looked completely unreal.
Alex looked away and tried to ignore the corpse and focus on the man sitting at the table.
“Hello,” said Alex. He tried to decide whether he should ask about the body on the floor. “My name is Alex O’Haney. Who are you?”
The man didn’t respond or look up. He lowered one hand from his face, curled his fingers around the .357. Alex noticed a book on the table near the center. A large book. He stepped closer and read the title: Malleus Maleficarum and underneath: “The Hammer of Witches” (Hexenhammer). What the hell kind of book is that? Alex thought. A book on witchcraft? He didn’t want to ask the man about it so he switched subjects.
“I have a person out in my car,” Alex said. “She’s partially infected by the red powder. We’re searching for a cure.”
A smirk curled up on the man’s lips.
“Have you heard about any scientists working to fix this? Do you know of any laboratories around?”
The man lifted the Magnum, thumbed his nose like a boxer, then narrowed his eyes. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk.
I should acknowledge the woman on the floor, thought Alex. Maybe that will motivate him to speak. “Is that your wife laying there?”
The man’s head jolted up, rage in his eyes. “It used to be my wife!”he shouted, glaring hard into Alex’s face. “Those fucking freaks killed her! Those goddamn zombies! They mauled her to death!” He slammed his fist down hard on the table.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Alex said. For the first time he noticed the torso of a zombie on the floor, its body protruding from a doorway several feet ahead with half of its skull missing. “Are you infected, sir?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Do you know of any other people who are not infected?”
“I heard there is a lab over in Hatchberry,” said the man, rising from his chair. “Supposedly some scientists are over there working on this problem. Hatchberry is about 150 miles east of here. Norton Research Labs, I think it’s called.” He stared down at his wife’s corpse on the floor. His eyes widened.
“Thanks very much. That’s exactly what I wanted to know.”
The man didn’t say anything.
“Do you mind if we stay here tonight?”
He could see that the man was not listening. He stood up from the table and moved over to his wife’s corpse. Standing over her body, he examined the mass of stringy red organs extending from her mauled back and he looked at the large pool of blood surrounding her. Alex watched the man’s face twist into a state of complete rage.
“They mauled the guts right out of her back!” he screamed. “They killed her, my first and only wife! Those goddamn red chemically damaged sons-of-bitches!” His voice was loud and unhinged. He stomped and waved the 357.
Alex tried to console him. “Calm down, sir. Just take it easy. We’ll try to help you.”
“Fuck that! How could you! How could you possibly help me now!”
The man went over to the table again and sat down.
Alex waited a full minute before he spoke. “I’m going out to get Maxine. She’s the woman in my car. Do you mind if we sleep on your floor, just for tonight?”
The man bolted up from the table and ran over to the wall. He started slamming his head into the panelling repeatedly and a picture of Jesus Christ crashed to the floor.
“Take it easy!” yelled Alex. “Sit down for awhile, sir. Just try to relax.”
The man stopped beating his head, turned around and stared at Alex, gasping for air.
Alex looked at the man and saw some of the rage flow out of his face. Then he turned and went through the kitchen. Just as Alex stepped off the back porch, a loud pistol shot blasted throughout the countryside.
He stopped and quickly ran back into the house.
The man’s head was face down on the table with the back of it completely blown off, a barrage of splattered blood and brains now staining the wall next to an old wedding picture of the man and his wife.
-end-
(Thanks for reading. This is chapter 10 of the novella, “Zombies of the Red Descent.” You can purchase the full version here: http://tinyurl.com/a7p7vw If you now of any magazines that would like to publish this story, please contact the author: zevi_35711@yahoo.com. Also, you would be helping out the author greatly if you purchased one of his books from Amazon.com or another online book store of your choice. Regards.)
http://becomeguitaristfromhell.blogspot.com/
http://zombiesofthereddescent.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/user/zevi35711
Bio: Jason Earls is the author of Cocoon of Terror (Afterbirth Books), Heartless Bastard In Ecstasy, How to Become a Guitar Player from Hell, Zombies of the Red Descent, If(Sid_Vicious == TRUE && Alan_Turing == TRUE) {ERROR_Cyberpunk(); }, Red Zen, and 0.136101521283655... all available at Amazon.com and other online book stores. His fiction and mathematical work have been published in Red Scream, Yankee Pot Roast, M-Brane SF, Scientia Magna, three of Clifford Pickover’s books, Mathworld.com, AlienSkin, Recreational and Educational Computing, Escaping Elsewhere, Neometropolis, Thirteen, Dogmatika, Prime Curios, the Online Encyclopedia of Integer Sequences, OG’s Speculative Fiction, Nocturnal Ooze, Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens and other publications. He currently resides in Oklahoma with his wife, Christine.
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