Ill Prepared

Inside the camouflaged tent, four men stood around a large table. The only illumination coming from an overhead lamp shining down on a map covered with red, green and grey blocks of wood. Listening intently to the headsets they each wore they would occasionally reach out with thin poles they each held and move one or more of the green and red blocks, maneuvering them around the larger grey blocks that indicated one of the nearby city’s buildings.

Striding into the tent a young officer glanced over the map, swore and strode back out, barking orders into the heavy downpour to the assembled troops. After a few moments of gentle silence, the officer re-entered the tent, this time with several other officers in tow.

“Status?” asked one of the senior officers.

“Not good Sir” replied the young officer “Incursion team four and seven have been cut off and surrounded. They managed to blockade themselves here and here” he said as he indicated two blocks of green balanced on two separate blocks of grey. “They have one injured, but not infected. The bigger concern is here” he said as he indicated a green block off to the side of the city “Last check in they were under moderate attack, however they lost their radio and we’ve heard nothing since”

“Have we sent anyone to check on them?” asked another officer.

“No Sir, apart from the command guard all units are tied up and with the heavy rain, as you know sir, air support is limited in how much they can see” replied the young officer as he watched more red blocks being pushed toward a line of greens to the north edge of the map.

“Well, we sho..” The officer stopped talking as the sound of machine gun fire, muffled by the rain drifted into the tent “ahh, the nearest combat group is two miles away, what’s going on out there?” As he finished his sentence, one of the radio men reached out and with a slight hand tremble, placed four large red blocks directly on the square of paper marked ‘command’.

Outside they could hear barked orders and more gunfire tearing through the night rain. With trained precision the senior officers headed out of the tent and toward their own individual commands. As they vanished into the night the junior officer looked around nervously at the radio men, who despite the looming danger stayed focused on the task at hand, leaning forward and adjusting troop positions on the map as the radio reports came in.

A blast of gun fire directly outside the tent made the officer jump and as he turned toward the tent flap a bloodied camouflaged soldier was thrown through. As he scrabbled for his pistol several dark shapes stepped over the now motionless marine, lunging forward, the first grabbed the officers shirt and dragged him in, smashing their heads together. Dazed the officer tried to swing at his assailant as a second figure caught his arm and pulled with inhuman strength. With a loud ‘crack’ his arm snapped, protruding bone through his forearm and spraying the room with blood. Reeling away from the two assailants the officer turned to the table only to more figures attacking the radio operators. He tried to call out for help, but with a hard ‘thud’ pain tore through his back as something smashed into him and threw him across the table, scattering blocks and smashing his head into the hard slate of the table top.

Pulling himself up he felt something tear into his back again and again, until finally, the pain stopped and he slumped down across the table, unfeeling, as something pulled at his back, spraying warm blood onto the back of his neck and shoulders. As he lay dying on the table, unable to move, he watched as his blood pooled out from the gaping wounds in his back and arm, onto the map and as he began to lose consciousness he watched as the red blood swept around the few remaining green blocks on the map and the sound of gunfire faded into the distance.

Journal by Narzane – A Community Story

The first story from the zombie stories community is here!

Click here to read ‘Journal‘ by Narzane

Narzane’s Biography: I am a new writer from Michigan just starting to make ZS’s. I live alone. I hope to keep on making more of these and to keep on getting better and better at it!(Journal is my first story)

Drive By Savior

Stumbling over the road barrier, the zombie held its gaze on the young woman as it crashed down to the hard concrete, pulled itself up to its knees and continued to incessantly move toward her. The woman looked around madly, trying to find a weapon within arm’s reach, but all she could find on her side of the road was tarmac and dirt. As the zombie moved into the median, torn skin hanging from its bare chest she caught glimpses of the shattered and torn leg that was hampering its speed.

Letting out a grunting moan the creature pushed itself to its feet, compacting the shattered bone of its upper calf into the almost severed foot. Somehow the foot stayed in place and the zombie lurched forward, bobbing up and down as it stomped down on the now shortened leg with sickening bone crunching sounds.

The woman pulled herself back, yanking on a tuft of grass, dragging her own bloodied and useless leg behind her in a last desperate attempt to escape the certainty that she knew was coming. She looked up as the creatures shadow fell across her, having crossed the final lane and stepping onto the side of the road where she lay, looming over her and blotting out the sun.

As it reached a hand out toward her face, a loud engine roar shattered the still air and caused the two of them  to look up at the oncoming vehicle that was barreling down the road toward them.

Blinking through tears she saw the vehicle approaching, and watched as the man lean out of the window. With a sudden ‘THUNK’ he screamed in triumph as he connected the baseball bat in his outstretched arms to the zombies head, shattering it and sending everything from the nose up out across the bordering field. With a quiver the zombie fell to the floor, dark blood leaking from its missing skullcap.

The woman lay there shaking, as she watched the vehicle drive into the distance and the man, still leaning out the window shout “WooooooooooooooHHOOOooOoooooooo”.

Community Stories

I’ve received a few comments and requests to accept other submissions to the site. As such I decided to set this page up and see what sort of response I get.

If you want to submit a short story  send it to rob@burntideas.com with the title ‘Zombie story submission’

Click here to learn more about submitting your own zombie stories!

City Aflame

The flames were tearing through the city now, entire city blocks aflame, apartment towers and offices alike belching thick black smoke into the night sky. Brad wiped the soot away from his eyes and looked around the street, shotgun in his right hand, and gripping his left was his son.

“OK, follow me, if we can get to the bridge there’s a car rental place there” he said, moving away from the buildings doorway and out into the street. He had learned quickly over the last few hours to stay well away from the edge of the street.

As the first reports of infected had leaked out onto the local news Brad had paid it little attention. The first quarantined building was on the other side of town and nothing for the general population to worry about. Even as the fire had broken out within the building, captured on camera and beamed across the city, Brad had settled down on the couch with a beer and that mornings newspaper. He had only looked up at the TV when the first burning man had walked out of the building and attacked the nearest firefighter. He had sat there fixated as the walking pillar of fire crossed the street toward another firefighter, ignoring the gunshots and bullets thudding into it from the nearby police. He had watched in morbid fascination, as more human torches exited the building, unhurriedly walking toward the police who had begun to flee the scene or crossing the street, following the crowd of onlookers who had fled back into the opposite building.

The flames had quickly spread after that, matched only in speed by the spread of the infected across the city. Within hours the city was aflame, the streets were clogged with stationary cars, many alight and public transport had come to a complete halt. Brad and his son had gathered up a few supplies and headed out into the glowing night as they had watched the neighboring apartment building go up in flames. Brad shut his eyes and forced the memory from his mind, trying not to picture the figures struggling in the windows across the street, trying to fight back against the attackers that had poured through their apartment doors, seemingly unhurt by bullets and fire alike.

He stepped over another prone body, probably the twentieth jumper he had seen within the past hour and strode down the middle of the street toward the bridge. Approaching the giant structure he could see a blockade of police cars and SWAT vans across all six lanes of the bridges mouth. He waved as a bright spotlight was turned toward him and slowed his walk, holding his arms out away from his body and letting the shotgun dangle from his outstretched finger tips. As he slowly stepped forward the light suddenly swung away from him and lit up a number of people to Brads left. Turning to look at them his stomach turned to stone as the first one stumbled toward him, a female, whose left arm was completely missing and whose clothes and skin was charred and torn away in multiple places.

Panicking Brad pushed his son away from him toward the police line and took aim at the nightmarish figure bearing down on him. He leveled the shotgun and pulled the trigger. The gun roared tearing a huge chunk of the attacker’s torso away. Still she kept coming at him. Brad pumped the shotgun and fired another round, this time hitting her squarely in the chest, knocking her back several paces before she began to lumber toward him. He pumped the gun again and fired another round, snapping her left knee in half and sending her spinning to the ground. Brad looked up as she began pulling herself toward him, to see another disfigured man lurching his way. He squealed, pumped the shotgun, aimed higher, pulled the trigger and watched as the top portion of the man’s skull shattered under the impact, sending a plume of blood and hair into the night air.

Brad stepped backward as the lifeless body crashed in a heap at his feet. With a lunge the crawling woman grabbed his leg, pulled in close and bit down hard on Brad’s boot. With a cry of pain Brad slammed the stock into the her head, ramming it into the hard pavement and leaving broken teeth protruding from his now bleeding foot. He reversed the shotgun, pumped it a final time and fired, point blank, at the base of her skull. The blast tore through the bone, mulching the brain and sent shrapnel in every direction as the buckshot hit the pavement. Brad screamed as hot fragments tore through his leg and already hurt foot.

Limping backwards he spotted more figures moving out of the shadows toward him. He turned and began to limp toward the police line and the silhouetted figure of his son, anxiously waiting for him. As he approached a heavily armed officer approached him “Sir, were you bitten?” he asked.

“Uhh, no, no its just shrapnel from the shotgun” Brad replied back, his voice tinged with fear and his mind racing at what would happen if they suspected he had been bitten.

“Alright, good” responded the officer, his attention already shifting to the oncoming group “Get over the bridge and find a paramedic, they should be able to help you out”

Brad nodded, grabbed his sons arm and began to make his way toward the bridge. As they made their way across they could hear the officer barking orders and gunshots ringing out as they opened fire on the onrushing group.

Half way across the bridge he turned to his son and pulled the small one round pistol from his sock “I want you to have this son. Don’t be afraid to use it, no matter what happens or who you need to use it on. No matter who it is, don’t hesitate. Do you understand?”

The young teenager looked up at his father as he took the pistol offered to him “Yes dad” he replied.

An Unfortunate Opportunity

“Come on!”

Running through the woods the two females sprinted onward, tree branches slapping at their faces and arms as they fled their pursuers. Behind them two figures pushed their way through the underbrush, undeterred by the sharp plants dragging at their clothes and skin.

Breaking free of the heavy bushes and trees the two burst into a clearing and, breathing heavily, ran toward the other side. Half way across the clearing their pursuers exploded out of the tree line with a roar. Startled the leading female turned at the sound, missed her footing and stumbled forward, landing hard on several planks of wood which in turn, and with a sharp crack gave way from the force. The second female screamed and threw herself sideways as her partner disappeared into the concealed well shaft and hit the water with a distant splash.

Turning to face the two advancing zombies she could see the damage wrought by the forest as they had tried to catch her. Their faces had been torn in numerous places, one was missing an ear while the other, sporting a mass of cuts across the right side of its face was missing its upper lip. The two zombies advanced toward the girl who maneuvered around the edge of the well, placing the dark hole between them and her. As they approached she kicked out at the remaining boards, snapping the rotted wood and sending the pieces raining down on her companion far below her, who began to scream as she realized both where she was and at the debris raining down around her. As the first zombie approached the edge of the hole, it reached out, blindly stepping forward and promptly disappeared from view as it fell into the well. The second one followed the first, its legs still walking and its eyes fixated on the rapidly receding female above him as it disappeared down the shaft.

The remaining woman fell to the ground, tears flowing from her eyes as she pressed her hands against her ears and tried to block out the echoing screams and splashes from below her. For several minutes she sat there, gently rocking back and forth until the noises subsided and all she could hear was the occasional splash of something moving in the water. She stood up, whispered a prayer, turned and made her way deeper into the forest.

Schweinfurt–Regensburg mission

“I wish I could go pa!”

The gruff, bearded man turned and looked at the child critically before finally saying “No. No you do not”

“Why pa?”

He sighed “Because my boy, it’s a fool’s task. Those kids, no matter how many guns they take with them, are goin’ to die and it is going to be a waste. We will have less people here to help with the defenses and more importantly all those young men will have lost their lives, if they’re lucky!”

“I don’t understand pa. They said they would save us all! That there would be no more attacks!”

The man rubbed his eyes, tired from months of fighting, months of repairing walls, doors, knives and guns. Months of death, undeath and seeing friends dying only to return with murder in their eyes.

“Let me tell you a story son. During the Second World War the United States launched a daring air raid, from England against the Germans. Deep into enemy territory they flew, hundreds of bombers, on a mission to destroy the Luftwaffe’s plane factories. They were going to stop the entire air war in one decisive strike”

The child’s eyes were wide eyed as the man continued to talk “Those boys are going deep into the city and they are going to stir up a hornets’ nest the likes of which we have not seen. There must have been more than a million people there when the plague came, and there they remain. And just like back then they are going into something with little understanding of what they really face. Mark my words child, at best things will remain the same at worst the whole damn city will empty out and head this way. Either way we will be missing our strongest men and our best weapons.”

The two remained silent as the wind whispered through the tree leaves above them until the boy quietly asked “You really think it’s that bad pa?”

“I do son”

Again they fell silent, listening to the leaves and distant bird song across the surrounding countryside.

“Pa, what happened to the planes?”

The man rubbed his beard thoughtfully and shook his head at the gathering group of men at the town’s gates “They failed son. Only a few returned, the rest were shot down and killed.”

Demon Creature

The low chanting filled the air, rising and falling as the chanters began to stand raising their hands toward the sky. Soon they all stood, stamping their feet to the ground, clapping their hands and waving their arms as the chanting reached a crescendo of sound. As their cries reached near fever pitch a hooded man walked out onto the stage, stood for a brief moment and then reached out with one hand. Immediately the chanting stopped and the audience stood silently watching the figure.

“Behold” he intoned.

From behind him walked two men, hauling on heavy chains, which in turn were hooked to a large pallid man, whose shredded chest and exposed organs gave away his undeath state. Pulling him forward the two held the zombie in place, despite its struggles to approach the audience.

“And now, the test” stated the hooded figure.

He reached into a large wooden box by his feet and carefully pulled out a mass of writhing snakes. Gingerly he walked toward the restrained zombie and placed the creatures into his outstretched hands. Immediately the snakes became frenzied, biting the hands and forearms of the undead creature. The zombie paid no attention to the dozens of bite marks, instead his gaze remained focused on the cowled figure.

After a long minute of silence, punctuated by the occasional hiss, the zombie’s mouth opened and it let out a long low groan.

The cowled man turned and faced the audience “BEHOLD” he shouted “He is unhurt by the demon creatures. He stands there with enough poison to kill an ox, unafraid and unscathed. He can show us the way! RELEASE HIM!”

The man sank to his knees in front of the creature as the chains were loosened and then removed. The audience began to chant as it stepped forward with outstretched arms. Grabbing the cowl the undead gripped the man’s neck and pulled.

As the chanting again reached fever pitch the zombie turned toward them, covered now in blood and as it began to walk toward them, it let out a another long groan.

Driven To The Breaking Point

“Roger Mcomm, were coming over target now”

The helicopter soared across the plains toward its destination. Inside the ride was rough as the constant missions and lack of maintenance took its toll on the machine. Leaning out of the door and looking ahead the door gunner let out a loud “Woohoo” that carried over the deafening roar of wind and rotor blades, “There’s tons of the bastards! Woooo!!” he swung back to the large six barreled GAU machine gun, and locked his restraining strap into place.

As the copter banked high over the horde far below them the door gunner pulled the trigger and sent a stream of bullets from the rapidly spinning barrels. He watched, whooping with joy as he drew a line of destruction through the horde, laughing as bodies fell to the floor, limbs were torn from torsos and heads exploded like water melons hit by a truck.

In the cockpit the pilot leveled the vehicle out and began to slow the aircraft down, giving the door gunners on both sides a level platform to shoot from. He sat there holding the vehicle steady, watching the dials and listening to the machine as the vibrations from the firing door guns shuddered through the flight deck. Frowning the pilot clicked the mike channel open “Hey guys, cut the firing out for a second I think we might have a prob…”

He was cut off as the tail rotor tore clear of the helicopter with a metallic screech. Fighting with the control stick the pilot tried to hold the aircraft steady as it began to rotate and tilt into a dive earthbound.

Screaming in terror and anger the first door gunner kept his fingers pressed on the triggers, swinging the rotating barrels and their stream of death at the spinning mass of zombies below him, trying desperately to take as many to the grave with him as he could.

—

The aircraft smashed into the ground, sending rotor blades back into the air and out across the plain. Inside the door gunner groaned in pain. His arm was shattered and pinned between the flight deck and the twisted barrels of the GAU. He pulled and screamed out in pain as fresh blood sprayed across his face and chest. Pressing his free hand to his arm he tried to staunch the wound while he looked around the twisted cabin. In the cockpit all he could see was blood on almost every surface and twisted metal hanging from the ceiling. Swinging around to look behind him he saw the other gunner slumped backward with one of the helicopters landing skis protruding through his chest. Twisting back he looked out at the crash site and the scene of devastation before him.

Everywhere lay bodies, torn apart from both the crash and the rain of death they had been firing down only moments ago. As he sat, his life blood bleeding out across the twisted metal floor and vision fading he struggled to watch as figures moved into view, clambering over the piles of bodies as they made their way toward him. Pulling his pistol from its holster he shakily aimed at the figures and squeezed round after round off, each time he pulled the trigger, he counted the round out, until finally he reached number fifteen. As the first zombie pulled itself up toward him, he reversed the barrel, pointed the pistol at his own temple and pulled the trigger.

Knowing What To Do Is Half The Battle

Demetri trudged through the ankle deep mud as the large tank rumbled along beside him and his small squad. Up ahead the captain rode in the back of a jeep, smoking a cigarette and thumbing through a short book, his clothes and hair were immaculate, untouched by the filth that splashed up on Demetri and his companions.

As the jeep crested a short rise in the road, the captain stood up in the back of the vehicle, looked forward, and then signaled for the tank to stop. With a jolt it did and the heavy diesel engine slowed, allowing Demetri to hear the ringing in his ears caused by walking this close to the loud tank. He motioned to his squad to spread out, and wearily they did so. Grateful for the break Demetri pulled a battered pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and after a few moments of patting pockets trying to find a lighter, one of his unit leant over and offered him a light.

Drawing the smoke in Demetiri smiled and leant back against the small tree behind him “So Rodya, what do you think?” he asked. The young soldier blinked and pocketed the lighter “Well sir, I’m not sure. I don’t see why the army needs to come out to some remote village. Why can’t the local police sort it out?”

Demetri smiled “It’s a good question Rodya. It is a question for politicians and for generals. It is not a question that you should be asking” He indicated the captain “Now pay attention, he’s seen something”.

The captain, who had been looking ahead through a compact set of binoculars, picked up a loudspeaker next to him and shouted out “By order of the army, you must disperse. If you do not then we will be forced to take action!”

Demetri frowned, the captain had sounded nervous, his voice cracking as he had laid down the ultimatum. Turning the captain waved at the troops and tank behind him to advance. As they did so he turned back and yelled again into the loudspeaker.

Scrambling up the incline Demetri crested the hill. There several hundred yards ahead of him was close to a thousand villagers, many injured, tightly packed and slowly making their way up the road toward them. As they moved closer, paying no heed to the shouting captain Demetri squinted at them, trying to figure out why it all seemed wrong.

Several seconds passed and then he saw it, the way they moved, was halting and heavy. The wounds in some should have stopped an ox, but these people were upright, walking toward them with massive gashes and missing limbs. But most of all, the thing that sent shivers down his spine, was the blood around their mouths and down their shirts, as if they had been feeding on raw meat with no regard for decency or cleanliness.

The captain screamed once more into the loudspeaker, then turned and ordered the men to open fire. The heavy NSVT machine gun mounted on top of the tank opened fire, lighting the small road up as it roared and spat lead and tracer into the crowd of villagers. Demetri crouched, and began to fire bursts of automatic fire into the crowd and watched as bodies were torn apart and dropped heavily to the ground.

As the first row of villagers fell to the ground, Demetri reloaded and took aim again. As he did so one of the first to be shot pulled herself back to her feet and began to stumble toward the soldiers, daylight clearly visible through a large hole in her chest. Demetri began to panic, as more villagers began to stand back up, blood pouring from their fresh wounds, while others, who had literally been torn in half by the gun fire, reached out and began to pull themselves forward.

Demetri opened fire with the rest of his clip, watching in disbelief as blood fountained into the air over the unstoppable mass of people. Looking up at the captain, he could see the man gripping the rails of the jeep, knuckles white in fear as he watched the horror moving closer to him. The captain leant down to the driver, yelled something in his ear, and with a roar the jeep shot backwards, until it was clear to swing around, and then shot off back down the dirt road. Dimetri swallowed and yelled at the tanks mounted gunner “Fire the cannon! FIRE THE CANNON!”.

Moments later the air was ripped asunder by the massive blast from the Tanks main gun. With a massive flash and boom of smoke and debris the villagers were blown apart. Body pieces were thrown everywhere. Again Demetri watched, and slowly more villagers emerged from the smoke, arms outstretched, soaked now in blood and continued to move toward them.

“FIRE AGAIN!” he yelled as he opened fire with his third rifle clip. With a loud clunk the tank locked another shell in place and the gunner pulled the trigger. The round tore into the crowd, shredding bodies with shrapnel and fire. As the explosion ripped through them the last thing Demetri saw was the torn and bloody stump of a leg flying through the air toward him.

—

Demetri woke with a cough, hacking blood up that was choking his lungs. After a few moments he breathed deeply and looked around. He was in a small cave, sharp, cold rock below and around him, at the entrance stood Rodya with a look of concern on his face. “Stay quiet Demetri” he said “If they find us we are both dead this time”.

Demetri looked at him, aware that his face and chest felt like they had been run over by a horse “What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing good sir. One of the tank rounds threw a piece of them at you. I dragged you away sir, to here. And when I went back the squad… the squad was with them sir. All of them, they were climbing over the tank. I, I watched as they pulled the gunner out. They tore him to pieces!! His screams, I, I have never heard anything like it, and then they climbed through the hatch for the driver. I don’t think he made it sir, I heard him screaming as I came back here”

Demetri swore. Suppressing a cough he looked up “Where are they now Rodya?” Rodya, in the dim light, looked scared, but he looked out and pointed east “That way, they just walked about a little and then all set off in that direction sir, if you listen you can hear them, they groan. I don’t think they’re human sir. Not anymore.”