Zombie Literary Magazine "Create-ure Magazine" now accepting submissions

Here's my submission. My computer's acting up, so this is the only place I can submit it for now. I already put it up on this site, but if it helps to put it here, then that's what I'll do. My name's Michael Meeks and I hope you like it.

Zombie Ethics
I don't think I'd be a survivor of the zombie apocalypse for very long. My beliefs and practices prevent me from harming others. Life is too precious to be taken so horribly. I'm not too sure on how Buddha views the zombies that now walk the Earth, but they are technically the "living" dead, so I don't think killing them would be right. According to my beliefs, all life is sacred.
Are zombies a sentient being, though? They seem to have basic motor functions, react to sound and the presence of food -which is us, actually-, and can interact with those who are near them. They hunger like we all do; gather and huddle together like we all do. Does it matter that their food just happens to be us, and they can't communicate above the basest of levels? Humans, as a species, eat the flesh of other living beings, such as cows, chickens and the like, and think nothing of it. Catholics use communion during their services, which can be seen as cannibalism on some level. Don't believe me? Then why do they say that the wine is the blood of Christ, and those wafers are the flesh of Christ?
I don't mean to go on and on about those kinds of things, so I must apologize now. It's just, this whole issue with the recently dead coming back to life can get a person thinking, ya know? My beliefs got me in this mess, and I sometimes wonder what things would be like if things were different; if I was different. The issue of cannibalism always seems to get me going. I gave up meat a long time ago, and seeing those things eating people tends to set things into motion in my mind and I can't stop sometimes. People live by eating the flesh of other creatures and call it normal everyday life, but when a zombie gnaws on the brains of your best friend, those same people get hysterical. Oops, there I go again. Sorry, I can't seem to stop myself today.
The how and why of our little predicament is irrelevant. Well, that's mostly because I don't listen to all the guessing and assumption games that people are playing anymore. Was it a virus, plague, space meteors, or an alien invasion? I, just like everybody else, don't have a stinking clue. The only thing that's for sure is that the government tried pulling one of their usual stupid stunts, and now we have the walking dead banging on the door. They don't discriminate, either. Are you a little old lady, someone’s child, or the idiot who thinks their invincible? The answer to that question is: It doesn't matter! They eat you no matter who you are.
The weak and ill equipped were the first to go, I'm afraid. What that means is that old ladies, kids and idiots didn't last long. They also made up the first of the zombie nation. Old people were too slow in their retreat, plus they tend to be fragile and break easy. Kids were too trusting of the people banging down the door, even though the people they were trusting smelled of sewage and rot. Idiots, well, we all know why idiots don't survive a zombie attack. They don't take things seriously; think they're invincible; push things too far until they get tripped up and bit in all the wrong places.
Another kind of person that didn't survive the attacks was, of course, the fatties. They just don't have what it takes to escape what now roams the streets. All that extra weight slows them down, making them a smorgasbord of tasty flesh. Sorry if this is too much for your delicate flower petals, but the truth hurts when you really get down to it. I know what you’re saying right about now. But you're a Buddhist, aren't you supposed to be kind and gentle and loving to all? Well, seeing your friends get eaten up by those things tends to change a person.
Actually, I was kind of chubby when everything went down the toilet. The only difference between me and them was that I played it smart. I use any chance I get to whip myself into shape. Still do, actually. Gotta stay fit if I don't want to get bit. Yes, yes, I know. That rhymes, but don't be an idiot. Anyways, I call it my daily zombie calisthenics. I run from them when I'm being chased and when I'm not, do some basic lifting with things around the house, and started eating better. Eventually I became toned up, and do my best to keep it that way. If you don't keep in shape and get lazy, thinking you don't need to keep doing things, then you get eaten.
Yesterday was interesting. I had to go to the store down the street to get staples when I ran into some zombies standing out front. How can that be interesting, you ask? Part of what was interesting was what one of them did. As I approached, I saw that it was a group of fatties loitering around the entrance of the store. Putting my head down, I slipped past them before they could shuffle my way. It wasn't until I exited the store that I saw something new. They moaned and groaned as usual at the sight of me, but only one of them approached.
As I walked out the door, the fattest of the three shuffled towards me in their usual way: limping on his right leg, arms dead at its side. He was a fat zombie, but there was still quite a bit missing from him. His shirt and pants were torn and dirty, and the shoe on his left foot was just gone, revealing a dirt encrusted sock with holes in the heel and at the toes, which were partially falling off from rot. A large hole on the left side of its ribcage showed broken ribs and a visible hole straight through to the heart. It looked like it had gone to town on some people, because gore circled around its gaping mouth, which revealed broken teeth. There were puncture holes that came out from the inside of his cheeks, suggesting that he tried eating bone as well. The only thing that was the same as the others was his eyes. They were black as night.
What happened next was only something I had heard during reports broadcast on the television. This zombie mumbled, moaned and groaned towards me like they all do, but stopped a few paces in front of me. Staring at me with his blacker than black eyes, he raised his right arm, palm up and let it hang there. Then, a moan I had never heard before came from his gaping mouth. It was almost like he was asking me to give him something, although what I wouldn't even guess. Is that weird or what? Why would a zombie ask for something to eat when he could just lunge at me and take his next meal?
Did I mention the smell? Well, most of the dead smell like rot from spending their days in the hot sun and humidity of summer, but this one seemed to go one step further. This next bit is something I've heard and seen, but haven't been close enough to really take it all in. From out of nowhere, this bag of death let out the loudest fart I have ever heard. You may laugh, but when you hear all the sordid details, that grin of yours will disappear real quick. All zombies are known for their flatulence. It's a worldwide fact. It's the main way for them to expel all the gases that come with decomposition. The twist comes just as quick as the smell. Sure, the bites and scratches are easy ways for people to turn, but these farts can turn you as well. Gross, right? They tell you to be prepared for anything, like in the boy scouts, and I was always a firm believer in that little fact. I always carry a portable gas mask with me for just such an occasion. I keep it with me at all times, whether I'm grocery shopping, or checking on my generator. That and a good pair of running shoes are essential tools when dealing with zombies.
There is power, if you were wondering. I may as well put that out there now. When the zombies started walking the streets, I guess the people at the power plants forgot to shut things off, and now we don't have to worry about keeping things fresh, or if we can eat things raw. Sure, keeping the lights off is a handy piece of information, but we don't let it affect our daily routines. I keep my generator ready just in case, even though there are people who go to the plant and do their best to keep it running. Who knows how long the power will hold out? Most people get that, and have started keeping generators just in case. Better to be safe than sorry, right?
I met some Runners today. They look like a family that seemed to lose their home, which is usually what happens when people become Runners. That's how they got their name; running from the ensuing zombie hordes. I couldn't turn them away, but I still remained cautious. I let them in, one by one, checking them over for possible bites, scratches, or any other kind of sign that they may be on the verge of turning. I checked the two little girls and the older woman first. Finding nothing of interest, I moved on to the little boy next, and then the man next. They passed my inspection, but when it came to the child he was holding, things got a little confrontational. The man and the woman wouldn't let me examine him, swearing up and down that he was fine; that he suffered from a disease he contracted from beforehand.
Against my better judgment, I let them all in. Nobody gets that irate if nothing's wrong, but I'll let it slide. After settling in the living room, I got all their names, I shared mine, and we told our stories to each other. Well, not everything, but enough that we relaxed around each other a little more. The man’s name was Wolfe, who was married to the woman who was aptly named Hope. One of the boys was theirs; Nathan I think. The others weren't theirs; just stragglers they picked up along the way. The story goes that they found the two girls and the boy in their neighbors' house, hiding in a bedroom closet. None of the kids spoke, even when asked what their names were.
"So, Wolfe and Hope, huh? How long have you been together?"
"Forever, it seems like!" The man curls a sly smile across his face as he glances at his unamused but not mad wife. "We met at a theme park, but got separated after all this happened. We got reunited through a friend, of sorts, and we've been fighting the good fight ever since."
"Ah, I see! And how did you come by the name of Wolfe? It's very unusual!"
"That's a story in and of itself. Let's just say that I picked it up during my travels. It was given to me for a number of reasons."
"Sounds like an interesting story. I'd like to hear it someday, if we ever make it out of the whole end of the world alive." I looked at the clock, finally noticing how late it was getting. They looked tired, so I decided that I should show them to the spare rooms and shower to let them shake off the day’s weight.
"This isn't the end," Hope chimes in, living up to her namesake. "This is just a minor setback. Things will be right again, you just wait." She grabbed her husband’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
"I hope you're right." Standing from my chair, I began my offer. "It's getting late, so I think it would be best if we all turned in for the night. It's not as luxurious as the Four Seasons, but I have a shower and a couple spare rooms that will fit you all comfortably."
Taking me up on my offer, they all stood. "That would be great,” Wolfe and Hope chimed in together.
I could see how tired they were by the look in their faces. They must've been out there for quite some time before they got to my place. And I don't think they've had a room all to themselves in awhile, either. They perked up a little when I showed them to the larger of the two spare rooms, and veering the children to the room across from theirs.
Both rooms were on the other side of the house, divided by a short hall that held the only bathroom. The bathroom was another thing they were happy to see. Well, the grownups were happy to see it; the kids could've cared less. They both took turns showering and cleaning up before putting the kids down to sleep. The two girls took the bed, while the young boy slept on the floor and the baby in the room with them. It took awhile for the kids to fall asleep because they were scared, but they did eventually go down. Back in their room, Wolfe and Hope stayed up for a little while longer, presumably talking about the day’s events and what they would do tomorrow.
Bidding them a final goodnight, I made my way back to my room to tend to my nightly routine before bed, which includes a warm cup of green tea and about an hour of meditation before I lay my head down on the pillow. It's been awhile since I've had people in the house, I think to myself, which makes my lips curl upwards. Maybe things won't be so bad after all.
It must have been after two in the morning when I awoke to the sound of something breaking in my room. I wasn't sure what it was at first, but it sounded like the tray that held my tea was knocked off the table, breaking the glass I had drank from. Being a light sleeper, the noise shot me out of my dream like a rabbit shooting across the street trying to get away. It was still pretty dark, but the moonlight coming in through my window told me something was still moving around the room. I think I must have caught its attention when I shot up in bed, because it was heading my way. It looked too small to be one of the older children. As it made its way towards me, it looked like it was having a hard time standing, which led me to conclude that it could only be the small child that Wolfe was carrying when they first arrived.
Trying to get a better look, I focused my eyes intently at the small child heading my way. Something about it seemed a little off. The head looked wrong, somehow, but I couldn't make out how exactly. The hood of its jacket was up when it first arrived, and with them not wanting me to check the baby, I could only guess if he was infected or not.
As it crossed the halfway mark of my room, I pulled off my covers, got out of bed, and walked over to the light switch as fast as I could. I don't think it heard or saw me moving in the dark, because it didn't bother tracking me with its head or change its walking path. Flipping the switch revealed what the dark hid from view. As it turned towards me, I could see that the child had a pretty deep gash trailing from the top left of its head all the way down between the eyes and across the right cheek. It looked like one of the zombies tried grabbing for the kid as it was pulled away.
Looking at the dead child stirred up revulsion in me, which eventually turned to pity and sorrow. All I could do was feel sorry that such a young life had to be stamped out so soon. Being a person that would never cause harm to another living being, I decided to lock it in my room until morning, deciding what to do then. I should've known better. The thing was fast. I forgot how fast they could be just after turning. It couldn't have been more than an hour or two since it turned. From the moment he saw me grab for the door and the moment I had it open most of the way, he was on my leg in a matter of what seemed like seconds.
I tried not to wake the others, but the pain of the bite on my calf made me cry out anyway. The bite was painful, but what came next was worse. It felt like there was fire in my veins as the virus made its way through my system. The pain dropped me to the floor in an instant, causing me to write in pain. It was more painful than I could have ever imagined. I don't know how a child could've endured.
The noises I was making must have woke the others, because lights came on throughout the house in search of the disturbance. I was eventually joined by everyone that had been asleep, although the children hung back, whimpering as they watched. Through fits of pain and the burning that wouldn't stop, I could make out Wolfe and Hope standing above me. I couldn't be too sure, but I think they were smiling as they studied my reaction to the virus.
"He's fighting it!" The woman's voice said.
"Don't worry; they all turn in the end. It's only a matter of time before he does too. It'll be over soon!" They both looked at each other with that same smile before locking each other’s arms around waists and continued to watch me writhe on the floor. The children, with their scared faces, were the last thing I saw before everything went black.
I woke up in the basement, my head pounding and my body aching from the virus that no doubt was coursing through my entire body. I think I still had fits when I was out, because blood was dripping from a gash in my forehead. I tried talking, but all I could manage was gibberish. Putting a searching finger in my mouth told me what my eyes would only confirm: I bit clean through my tongue.
My muscles ached with each step up the basement stairs, which took half an hour to climb. Greeted by a locked door, I mustered enough strength to pound softly on the door. I pounded and pounded until I finally heard steps across the floor heading towards my direction. I tried to tell them to let me out, but all I made was noise as I spit up blood.
"You probably want out, but we can't let you!" It was the man’s' voice being muffled behind the door. "You're infected now, and we can't risk you turning up here and infecting the rest of us. We'll be taking this house from you, now that you're dead, so just stay down there and keep quiet." The man’s' voice broke off into a couple steps away from the door, which led to a muffled argument I couldn't make out.
Steps towards the door and the woman’s voice took the place of the man. "Please don't worry about a thing, sir. We know that you're a devout Buddhist, and we know you wouldn't want to hurt anyone, which is why we stuck you in the basement. When you do turn, one of us will be down to put an end to your suffering." Things go quiet for a few beats before the woman came back with an apology. "I'm real sorry things had to turn out this way. I'm sure you were a decent enough of a guy, but we really needed a place to stay without having to worry about anybody else. We were only concerned about the children. I hope you understand. I'm sorry!" The last apology seemed to come through tears as she walked away and left me behind the door.
I'm not sure how much time I spent in that windowless basement before I succumbed to starvation. They say that takes three or four days, but I wasn't sure. Time disappeared even more after the change took me. When it did, I didn't really feel much different. I could still have basic thought, even though it didn't stay with me too long. Everything slowly ebbed away as the change started to take full control, but I was still left with basic thought. Eventually the hunger took over and I couldn't do a thing about it. It's funny! I spent most of my life avoiding meat only to be reduced to a dead monstrosity that craves it.
I wanted to hurt, maim, and kill in order to get what I craved. I could even smell the flesh of those who had come and taken my home, my very life, from me. The smell of them was intoxicating. I think they must've heard me moaning for them, because there was movement coming from just beyond the door. They were coming for me now, and by the time they made their way down the stairs to greet me, my mouth was watering for a taste.
The man came down first, followed by the woman. I forgot their names towards the end, but I still vaguely remembered who they were. They were the ones that hurt me, and I wanted to hurt them back. It's all I could think about, and now they were here in the same room as me. They stood there at the foot of the stairs, taunting me with their delicious flesh.
The man came at me with a long, flat and pointy, metal stick. I couldn't remember what it was called, but I knew that I should stay away from it. Still quick on my feet, seemingly quicker now, I dodged his first few attacks before he thrusted, jamming his stick into my shoulder. He seemed to be having trouble taking it out, so I seized the opportunity.
Bringing up my left arm, I grabbed and swatted across the length of the weapon, losing and catching my grip on his sleeve. I think I must be stronger than him now that I've turned, because I was pulling him towards me with relative ease. The woman screamed as she ran in to defend the man. Why would she want to stop me from enjoying this meal, I asked myself? She tried and failed to beat me off of him. The best she managed was a few scratches across my face. Her attacks failed to stop me, and I took a good sized bite out of the man’s forearm.
The taste was unbelievable. It was like taking the first bite out of my first meal ever. It was so good that I went in for seconds, fending off fewer attacks from the man. I think one of us must've tripped, because we fell to the floor in a flurry of squirms. He tried to block my advancing bites, but was failing miserably. The second bite I took from his neck tasted better than the one I took from his arm.
I'm not sure when, but the woman stopped hitting me on the back and went for the sharp thing that fell from my shoulder. She slashed at me from all angles, but my biting grip on his neck was too much. She managed to cut my left arm off and took a big gash from my right before the man started giving directions in between screams of pain. He managed to eke out the command to go for my head, which she took to immediately. With two hard downward strikes, she finally managed to cleave my head from my body. It took whatever strength she had to push me off of him, which made her fall to the floor, drenched in sweat and tears. The love of her life was now on the verge of turning into the thing she had just killed. She wondered if there was a fate crueler than this.
Between sobs and pleas from him to end his life, she finally got up the courage to separate his head from the body and stumble back upstairs. Seeing her covered in blood, the children became too hysterical for her to calm down, so she let them be. They would eventually cry themselves to sleep that night. In the days that followed, they came to terms with what had happened, and learned to survive without a strong male in their lives.
After burying the bodies, they all stayed in that house and went on with their lives. After a few months of dodging zombie attacks coming to and from the store or wherever they needed to go, the world did go back to normal. The infection eventually died off and the living got the upper hand. By the end of that year, the zombie population had died off for good. The world returned to normal, save the woman and three children who were staying in a stranger’s house. The one thing that never changed was her drive to protect those children with her life. They were the only thing that would link her to her sister and husband, and nobody was going to take that from her.

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