The Real Night of the Living Dead Read online

  Then Hank screamed and fired another shot. That was all it took for the creatures up the road to turn their attention our way. As soon as they saw us moving, they ran.

  I opened the door to the shed, and we hid inside.

  “I don’t believe it is wise to remain here,” said the professor.

  “We’re not,” I said. “I just wanna put this fat slob out of his misery.”

  It was dark inside the shed. There was a light switch, but I didn’t want to turn it on. I wasn’t sure if Hank saw us slip inside or not, and I wasn’t trying to announce it if he hadn’t.

  My eyes were focused across Southampton, waiting for Hank to appear. I was anxious for him to show his face, so we could end this. Any minute now, the infected on the prowl would be waiting to greet us outside this shed. That was a situation I was trying to avoid. Yeah, we had a satchel of ammo, but how long would it last if I kept having to use it on these creatures out here? I had no clue how many awaited us at S-3, and I would need all the ammo I could come up with.

  Here he was, waddling and stumbling across the road. He must’ve seen us enter the shed as we passed under the street light, ‘cause his eyes were right on it.

  He shouted, “Come on out, convict. Don’t try to hide.”

  I checked my revolver, making sure it was loaded.

  It was.

  He fired a shot.

  It hit the door of the shed. Christ, this mug was a good shot. He was barely able to walk, but he still managed to get within a few inches of me.

  I cursed as me and the professor ducked.

  “Let’s go,” he shouted. “If I become one, then I’m taking you with me.” He was near the edge of the road, closer to us. “Veimer the convict, come on, we’re waiting for ya.”

  He tripped and almost fell to the street.

  That was my opportunity.

  I threw open the shed door, jumped out, and fired two shots. One bullet hit his throat, the other, his chest.

  He tipped over, landing on his back; his heavy weight making a loud thud.

  “Excellent job, my boy,” said the professor.

  “Come on,” I said.

  We ran toward the fallen security guard. While moving, I looked up the road to see the three runners closing in on us, about thirty feet away, their screams intensifying.

  Standing over him now, I gazed down at Hank.

  His shirt was torn. There was a bite on his shoulder and neck and one on his face, below his eye. His face was covered in blood. The guy was a real fighter. I had to give him that. Somehow, he managed to make his way out of that house, passed those maniacs. But he wasn’t getting past me.

  He was still alive. His glassy eyes were staring at me as blood spewed from his mouth.

  I turned to the three approaching creatures.

  Aimed my revolver.

  Fired a shot.

  One down.

  Fired another.

  Hit her mouth. She fell to the street.

  Fired at the third.

  Top of the head. Dropped him dead.

  The woman with the bullet in her mouth was back on her feet.

  I fired another shot that hit her in the back of the head as she stood.

  Dead.

  We wouldn’t be safe for long though. The moans of the mob from back at the guard house were increasing, coming from the field.

  I aimed the gun down at Hank’s head. Looked like he finally died, but I had to make sure he wouldn’t come back.

  Then a bright light was shining on us and someone shouted, “Put down the weapon.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The cop was out of his patrol car now, guarding himself behind the open driver door, while pointing his gun at us.

  I kept the revolver on Hank’s head as I said to the cop, “Listen, officer, you’re a little late to the party, but let me explain something to you. If you don’t let me put one in this mug’s head, in a few minutes, he’s going to be on his feet, trying to kill us.”

  “I said put the weapon down.” He saw the professor beside me holding his gun and said, “You too, put it down.” Then his head tilted, his eyes stole a quick glance to the side. He heard the moans from the field.

  “I was the one who called. We need help here. You pointing that gun at me ain’t helping very much. This guy here is already dead…”

  “Then why are you aiming your weapon at him?” He was squinting his eyes at the sound of the approaching creatures; he had no idea what it was. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “You hear them, don’t you?” I said.

  “Are those the patients that broke out?” He gazed at the professor’s appearance; the wet hospital gown and his dirty bare feet.

  “Officer,” said the professor, “they are the dead, returned to a life of misery.”

  The cop bit his lip and gripped his gun tighter, thought the professor was trying to be a wise guy. “You got three seconds, and then I’m going to have to shoot the both of you.”

  I crouched down and placed the revolver on the ground. The professor followed.

  The young cop walked from behind the car door, the gun still on us. He kicked our guns away as he searched us with his eyes. “What’s in the bag?”

  “That’s where I keep the ammo,” I said.

  He gazed up the road and saw the three dead creatures, then looked at dead ― soon to be undead if we didn’t do something about it ― Hank. “You responsible for killing these people?” he said to me as he noticed the flesh missing from Hank’s face. “Did somebody bite him?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And if we don’t put a bullet in his brain, he’s going to try and do it to you.”

  He ignored me as he said, pointing his .45 Colt revolver, “Both of you, over to the car.” We followed him to the rear of the two-door Plymouth. “Drop the bag and put your hands on the trunk.”

  We did what we were told for now. I didn’t want to get plugged by a copper, but I knew I would have to do something to get away from him.

  The cop looked at the professor’s backside showing through the gown. “Why aren’t you wearing any pants, pops?”

  The wise professor turned his head back to the cop and said in a sarcastic tone, “I was in a rush leaving for the office this morning. I must have mistakenly left them on the bed.”

  He gave the professor a disgusted look, then noticed the blood on his shoulder. “You get bitten too?”

  “No, officer. I was shot.”

  “He shoot you?” he said, motioning to me.

  “Oh no,” the professor said, shaking his head. “This good man saved me.”

  “Is that right?” He paused. “So who shot you?”

  “The obese fellow lying dead in the street, or temporarily dead, should I say?”

  The officer stared at the professor, then looked over at dead Hank. A few seconds passed. He leaned in his car, grabbing his radio, telling the dispatcher his name, Officer Antonio, and that he would need backup at Byberry, the state hospital. “Stay here,” he said to the two of us, then walked over to inspect Hank’s body.

  I stretched my head up to peek over the roof of the Plymouth and saw the cop kneeling down beside Hank.

  Then I saw an infected appear from out of the darkness, through the trees that lined Southampton Road, and tackle the cop.

  After seeing the bite wounds on Hank’s body, the cop knew enough not to let this creature sink her teeth into his flesh, which she was trying to do, but the cop was pushing her off with his forearm as beads of sweat developed on his forehead.

  As I ran over to help, with the professor behind me, I saw two more running out of the field. These three were the creatures who had crossed the field and got caught up in the mud.

  I pulled the creature off the cop; saliva mixed with blood was oozing out of her mouth and onto his sharp pressed uniform.

  The professor grabbed the two guns from the ground and began firing one at the two runners moving our way.

  I heard other
screams and turned toward the nurses’ house up the road.

  Another two were exiting through the door and walking toward us.

  I grabbed my revolver from the professor.

  Officer Antonio was on his feet now, looking confused, trying to subdue the woman who attacked him, while watching the professor shoot another woman in her chest and continue running like it didn’t bother her.

  I shot and killed the second creature running from the field.

  As she dropped dead to the street, another ten or more emerged from the field. They were running our way.

  And just like that, we were outnumbered.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “Get in the car,” I shouted, my wide eyes staring at the approaching marauders.

  The professor didn’t waste a second. He ran to the Plymouth.

  Antonio was unsure, still holding the woman by her gown as she tried to bite his hand.

  There wasn’t time to fool around. I put the gun to the woman’s temple and pulled the trigger. Brains and bones splattered onto the cop’s pants.

  He stared at me, shocked.

  “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing his arm and running to his patrol car as the runners gained on us.

  He hopped in the driver’s side and shut his door. I was right behind the professor, climbing in the passenger’s side. The professor slid to the middle as I sat and slammed the door.

  A running creature was only inches behind me and was now slapping his hands against the door.

  Another jumped on the hood and was glaring at us with her dead eyes.

  Officer Antonio shouted, “Get off the vehicle. You’re all under arrest.”

  “Would you drive off before they kill us,” I shouted to the cop. I was scared and panicking.

  The rest of the runners had surrounded the heavy Plymouth and were pounding and shaking it.

  I had the satchel on my lap and was loading the revolver, preparing to shoot these monsters if they happened to break the window.

  The cop still hadn’t put the car in Drive. He was too busy in shock, gazing at the infected woman on the hood now, the huge chunk of flesh missing from her face and throat. The bite must have torn into a main artery, because blood was shooting out of her neck and splashing onto the black hood.

  “Sweet Jesus,” said Antonio, his jaw dropped. He was looking past the woman on the hood, at Hank. “I saw him. I checked him. He was dead…Dead….”

  Hank was slow to get up, but he was getting up. Hank the security guard who wanted to kill me was now one of the infected creatures. He looked around like he wasn’t sure where he was, then he saw the headlights of the Plymouth and turned in our direction.

  Now Hank was screaming, running our way, about to join the party.

  One of the creatures threw their head back and slammed it into the driver door window, causing it to crack.

  “Move it, flatfoot,” I shouted.

  That got him going. He stepped on the gas pedal, and the Plymouth sped down Southampton Road. Most of the creatures fell back, away from the car.

  The woman was still on the hood as the speeding police vehicle collided with the charging Hank. His legs cracked as they met the Plymouth emblem on the front of the car. He was sent sailing toward the windshield and the woman, slammed into her, forcing her face to crash into the hood, denting it, and then his head hit the windshield on my side.

  The windshield crack and was stained with his blood.

  The cop was zigzagging down the road, trying to throw the two creatures off.

  The car raised up on his side, like we had ran over speed bumps, but we didn’t. We ran over two of the creatures that I had killed earlier who came from the nurses’ house.

  “Stop the car,” I said. “Just stop the goddamn car.”

  He stopped the car in the middle of the street.

  I stepped out, the revolver in my hand.

  Hank pushed himself up from the hood. His stale yellow eyes gazed at me, and he screamed. A loud scream. Louder than I had heard any of them scream. I had to wonder if he remembered me and how much he hated me.

  I didn’t give him any time to attack. I pointed the revolver to his forehead and pulled the trigger.

  Hank was dead…for the second time.

  The woman was crawling across the hood, trying to reach me.

  I didn’t let her get a chance to step to the street. I fired a shot. The back of her head exploded and painted the windshield.

  I sat back in the car and looked at the cop.

  He was in utter shock.

  I said, “I told you to let me put one in his head.”

  He kept staring out the window.

  The professor hit the button, and the wipers crossed over the windshield, smearing the blood and bits of flesh toward the edges. He said to the cop, “Unbelievable. Is it not, Mr. Antonio?”

  The cop gazed at the professor. Then he grabbed his radio and said, “Dispatch. This is Car 27. I need immediate assistance at Byberry Mental…er…uh…Philadelphia State.”

  The dispatcher said, “What’s the problem?”

  He hesitated before saying, “I…I can’t even begin to explain. Um…We have a riot on our hands. At least five people that I know of have been murdered. Hospital staff and patients among the victims. And I am quite positive that there are more dead.”

  I said, “We need to get to the children’s camp. Make a left up ahead…”

  The cop interrupted, saying, “No way. I’m not moving until backup arrives.”

  “Listen, Officer Tony…”

  “Antonio’s my last name,” he interrupted. “Don’t call me Tony. Vincent Antonio, that’s my name.”

  “Pal, I don’t care if your name is President Truman. What I’m trying to tell you is there are women and children in those buildings that need help. Our help,” I said. “Now if you don’t get moving then I’ll walk there myself.” He stared at me, contemplating his decision. “I know for a fact they’re in danger. I called S-3, and a nurse there said a few of them had been bitten. That means they’re infected and will die and come back, just like the security guard. To make matters worse, these people who were bitten are barricaded in the same ward as the ones who weren’t, so someone needs to get there and save them before it’s too late. Get me?”

  He nodded, saying, “Yeah.” He stepped on the gas, and the Plymouth continued up the road just as the runners we left behind were catching up again.

  Their shrieks and moans made me shiver. I could never get used to a sound so terrifying.

  The cop looked in the rearview mirror at them behind us and said, “What happened?”

  “Doctors were testing a new polio vaccine and, long story short, it didn’t work. This happened.”

  “They say seeing is believing,” said Officer Antonio. “I don’t agree. For the first time in my life, I’m not trusting my own eyes. I can’t accept what I saw happen back there.”

  I said, “I felt the same way, see? But after seeing it happen over and over all night long, it’s sorta beaten into your head to believe it.”

  The crossroad was getting closer.

  As Antonio slowed down to make a left, an army of the creatures walked into the road.

  It was too late to react.

  Antonio screamed.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The Plymouth plowed right into them.

  The cop jammed on the brakes as the creatures bounced off the patrol car, some of them crashing into the door windows and smashing them.

  I couldn’t tell how many were around us, but it was enough that all I could see outside the car were the infected.

  The window on my side was shattered from one of the creatures whose head drove into it. Now they were reaching in, moaning and grabbing onto my shirt.

  “Step on the gas,” I shouted.

  I pulled up my revolver and began firing at the clawing monsters, but as soon as one fell, another took his place trying to yank me out of the car.

  The prof
essor, sitting beside me, was doing his best to help. His arm was held straight, the tip of the gun peeking out the busted window, while he fired at the lifeless cannibals.

  Antonio stepped on the gas as the creatures on his side punched their bloody hands through the cracked window. The window exploded, sending pieces of glass onto Antonio’s face, which gave him a few fresh slices on his left cheek.

  The Plymouth moved slow as it forced its way through the undead. Some of them on the front of the car fell back, while others were run over.

  I was still firing as the creatures had such a good grip on my shirt that I was lifted from my seat. An infected man had his near toothless jaws so close to my face that I could smell Death coming from his mouth. I looked into the gaping hole as his tongue trembled in madness, trying to get a taste of my flesh. I saw what looked like the upper half of a finger lodged deep in his throat, and it vibrated every time he screamed. I shoved the revolver through his bloody gums, pointed it toward the roof of his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

  He fell to the ground, his grip still firm on my shirt.

  The professor kept firing, but had to switch sides and help the cop break free from the ones who were grabbing onto him.

  As the Plymouth kept moving, making the left turn from Southampton Road, the creatures on the side of the car, the ones grabbing onto myself and the cop, began to fall back. A couple of them held onto me, and one held onto the car door, but they were killed as we drove away; the professor shot one holding me, and I shot the other two. Then I broke the grip of the dead man with the toothless bite.

  I adjusted myself in the seat to look out the back window and saw the army was bigger than I had first thought. I couldn’t even see the road we left behind. All I saw was a wall of shadowy figures, like the darkness was moving. There were at least a hundred infected creatures, most of them slow movers, but they were following us toward the children’s camp. I said, “We’re going to have to move fast. There won’t be much time before they’re at the camps.”

  “Why is it so hard for them to go down?” said Antonio.

  The professor said, “Because they are deceased…”