Zombie King and Other Scary Short Stories for Halloween (Mystery Underground) Read online



  Zombie King

  And Other Scary Short Stories

  by

  David Anthony

  and

  Charles David Clasman

  Mystery Underground: Zombie King and Other Scary Short Stories

  Copyright 2014 David Anthony and Charles David Clasman

  Published by Sigil Publishing, LLC

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Sigil Publishing, LLC, Box 824, Leland, MI 49654.

  This book is fiction. The people, places, and events depicted within are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead or to real life places is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  #1: Zombie King

  #2: Ghost in the Graveyard

  #3: Secret of the Sinkhole

  #4: Tar Pit Terror

  #5: Happy Hairy Birthday

  #6: Deep Green Sea

  #7: No. 13 Pencil

  #8: Sleeping Bear Doom

  Visit Mystery Underground.com for more terrifying tales.

  Read a scare … if you dare.

  Also Available

  Undead Uprising

  California Creatures

  Frightening Florida

  Michigan Monsters

  Zombie King

  Midland, MI

  October 24, 6:30 pm

  Ashley Campbell and her younger brother Bryce walked along Eastman Avenue in the fading light. Ashley had accompanied Bryce to the Costume Outlet in town. After two hours of shopping, they were finally headed home.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t buy a real costume,” Ashley said. “Halloween is only a week away. You have to decide what to be.”

  Bryce exhaled loudly, annoyed. “I told you already. I’m the Zombie King. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

  “Whatever.”

  “No, you don’t get it,” he protested. “I don’t want to be a robot or a ninja. I’m the Zombie King. Halloween is supposed to be scary.”

  Ashley rolled her eyes. After looking at dozens of costumes, her brother had bought just one item: a pale white crown. Not a gold crown like a real king’s. This crown looked like it was made of bones.

  Bryce grabbed Ashley’s arm, stopping them dead in their tracks. He pointed ahead. The rusted iron gates of Midland Cemetery stood open. A thick gray fog roiled in the entrance.

  “Remember the graveyard rules?” Bryce whispered. “No talking when you pass by.”

  “Yeah, and don’t look into the graveyard,” Ashley added. “I know the rules. I taught them to you!”

  “No, you didn’t!” Bryce disagreed.

  “Sure I did,” she shot back. “You just don’t remember, little brother.”

  Bryce grunted. “Be quiet and come on.”

  They started walking again, careful to obey the graveyard rules. But the closer they got to the open gates, the more difficult it became. When Bryce spotted flashing red and blue lights, it became impossible.

  He looked. He talked.

  “Look, Ash.” He pointed up the hill through the cemetery gates. “There’s a police car in the graveyard.”

  Ashley shoved him. “Now you’ve done it. You broke the rules.” She was trying to act calm, but it wasn’t easy. A police car in the graveyard was certainly bad news.

  “Come on,” Bryce said. “Let’s check it out.”

  Without waiting, he strode toward the open graveyard gate. Tendrils of fog swirled around his calves like living things.

  “Wait!” Ashley exclaimed. “We can’t go in there!”

  “Why, are you scared?” Bryce smirked over his shoulder.

  “Of course not,” she shot back. “But Mom and Dad said we had to be home by seven.”

  “This won’t take long,” Bryce said. “Unless you’re chicken.”

  Ashley gave up and hurried after him. She didn’t want to go into the graveyard, but going home without her brother would get her grounded. She was the oldest and in charge. Getting both of them home on time was her responsibility.

  The cemetery was deathly still. Nothing moved except the police emergency lights. Even the fog seemed frozen in time, coming to life only when they passed. It stirred as if angered by their presence.

  With the fog’s movement came an unpleasant odor. It reminded Ashley of the chlorine in a swimming pool and made her gag. It also caused her eyes to water.

  “There’s something in this fog,” she grimaced. “It stinks.”

  “I don’t think it’s fog,” Bryce said. “It smells like chemicals.”

  “You’re right,” Ashley agreed. “Can we get out of here now? The smell is getting all over me!”

  Bryce suddenly ducked behind a tombstone. “Get down!” he hissed. “There’s someone up ahead.” Ashley dove down next to him.

  Cautiously the pair peeked around the tombstone. Through the fog, they spied the police car about twenty feet ahead. Its lights flashed and its driver-side door yawned open.

  “There,” Bryce whispered, pointing at a figure standing near the empty cruiser.

  A policeman! His back was turned to them, but he wore the right uniform. He swayed from side to side as if hypnotized by the flashing lights.

  “What’s he doing?” Ashley wondered.

  She had no time to find out.

  Dry leaves crunched behind them. A twig snapped. Someone was coming!

  The siblings turned but saw nothing new in the flashing light.

  “Hello?” Ashley called out.

  “Quiet!” Bryce warned. “It could be a bad guy. Why else would a cop be here?”

  Ashley wanted to protest but never got the chance. A low, terrifying moan drifted out of the darkness. The dreadful sound sent goose bumps racing across her skin.

  “W-who’s there?” Ashley and Bryce stammered together.

  The sickly sound came again, louder this time, and closer. New voices joined in. The moan became a chorus coming from all directions.

  The siblings shrank behind the tombstone, their backs pressed against the cool surface. They peered nervously into the fog.

  First a man and then two women appeared from the darkness like ghosts. They moved woodenly, stiffly, and shuffled slowly across the grass of the graveyard.

  Ashley gasped at seeing them. The trio of people moved so strangely!

  Bryce squeezed her arm. “There’s more,” he hissed.

  Behind the trio came a dozen people or more. All of them walked with the same awkward gait. Some of them shambled, others limped, and a few even crawled. Their clothing—expensive suits and dresses mostly—was tattered and old. Wrinkled, pale gray skin covered their faces and hands. Their eyes showed nothing but white. They stumbled like sleepwalkers with their arms outstretched. Drool leaked from the corners of their mouths.

  Ashley’s eyes widened and she stared in horror. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The people could be only one thing.

  Bryce’s favorite Halloween monster.

  The people were zombies.

  “Run!” she shouted, yanking her brother’s sleeve.

  “Help! Police!” Bryce screamed.

  He and Ashley leaped up and raced toward the police car. They stumbled on the uneven ground, almost falling several times.

  The policeman continued to sway like a charmed cobra with his back to them. None o
f their shouting got his attention.

  “Officer, help!” Bryce pleaded, tugging the policeman’s sleeve. “Zombies are after us!”

  The policeman turned stiffly, slowly. Ashley wished he hadn’t. He had pale skin and white, lifeless eyes like the zombies. When he saw the kids, he moaned hungrily. His rigid gray fingers reached for them.

  “He’s a zombie, Bryce! They’re all zombies!”

  Ashley grabbed her brother’s shoulder and ducked to avoid the policeman’s grasp. Then she shoved Bryce forward and they started to run, weaving around tombstones.

  “What’s happening?” Bryce cried, still running. “Where did the zombies come from?”

  Ashley didn’t answer. She didn’t have the breath to speak. The chemical in the air was thickening, burning her lungs with every breath. Who knew what it was doing to her?

  Crash!

  Something large and metal appeared in her path. Ashley had no time to avoid it. She struck the object dead on and the impact sent her sprawling. She splashed into a puddle of dark liquid that reeked of chemicals.

  Soaked and gagging, Ashley climbed dizzily to her to feet. A rusty fifty-gallon drum lay on its side in front of her—the culprit of her crash. Written on the barrel were the words TOXIC WASTE. A skull-and-crossbones accompanied them.

  Ashley’s mind whirled. Toxic waste. The chemical odor. What was going on here? The facts hinted at danger.

  The moan of zombies interrupted her thoughts. She and Bryce had to keep moving. They—

  Bryce!

  Her brother was gone.

  Ashley spun, searching urgently, squinting to see in the fog. “Bryce!” she screamed again and again.

  Finally she heard a response. It came weakly from somewhere below.

  “Down here.”

  She shivered. Bryce’s answer could mean only one thing in a cemetery. He had fallen into an open grave.

  “Where are you?” she gasped. “Keep talking!”

  “Here,” he repeated.

  Ashley scrambled toward