Log in / Register

 

Categories:

Monthly Archives:

Recent Comments:
  • Doc { Great read, hope there's more soon. } – Jan 02, 6:51 AM
  • J_Mo { This is the scariest story I've read here on talesworldwarz.com. this guy is way worse than the undead. Thank you... } – Dec 23, 11:18 AM
  • Justin Dunne { You had me at Kevin Fortune. } – Dec 22, 4:56 AM
  • Kristen { Wow. This is twisted and wonderful. Thanks for sharing. } – Dec 21, 7:51 PM
  • Martin { It,s too bad we can,t rate these stories like some other sites. Wow! What a great tale so far! 5... } – Dec 20, 1:20 AM

  • Spooky Halloween book series


    All The Dead Are Here - Pete Bevan's zombie tales collection


    Popular Tags:



    WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

    LOVE ALWAYS, MOM by David Charlton
    January 14, 2008  Short stories   Tags: , ,   

    Dear Jessie and Bill,

    I don’t know where you are or if I’ll ever see you again. The events of today have shocked and confused the world, but they’ve shocked and confused me even more. I’m still not sure if any of this is real, but you two are gone, so it must be. If I can never find you again, then I made a terrible, selfish mistake letting—no, forcing—our family to be separated. If you are safe, I hope you won’t read this until you’re eighteen or older. What happened today was terrible. That much is obvious even to young kids like you. For our family, though, it was doubly terrible, which you probably don’t know about. I don’t know how to explain it to you, or even if I should explain it. I hope to see you both someday soon, but I won’t tell you about it then. I’ll let you read this when the time is right . . . if the time is ever right again.

    *

    It was one of those fine early summer mornings. The winter rains had ended and the breeze brought with it mild temperatures and the faint scent of the Pacific. To Melinda, that breeze, that scent carried with it the calm pink hue of fresh salmon. The kids were still upstairs asleep. Robert, as usual, was out in the mud feeding his pigs. She cupped her large earthenware mug of Darjeeling with both palms to ward off the morning cool.

    Every morning, she started her day at the CBC News homepage. This calmed her and allowed her to get the bad stuff done with early so the rest of the day would be smooth sailing. The headlines usually involved suicide bombers in the Middle East, huge icebergs floating down the Pacific coast from Alaska, East Side gang violence, missing prostitutes, or cross-boarder trade disputes. None of those stories made the headlines that morning.

    “Rob!” she yelled out the kitchen window. “Rob! Come in here, quick!”

    “Where’s the fire? Where’s the fire?”

    “Just get your ass in here, now!”

    “Awright, awright. I’m coming.”

    The man clad in overalls wiped the oily, sweaty strands of a too-long comb-over back from to the top of his balding head, removed his mud-crusted rubber boots, and walked through the kitchen door.

    “What’s got your panties all in a knot, woman?”

    “Just have a look at this.”

    “Okey doke . . . hmm . . . what in—this has to be some joke.”

    “I don’t think so. Look, it’s here on the CTV site, too. And the BBC, and CNN. I checked them all.”

    “What about the TV news?”

    “The TV isn’t working. All the channels are just showing snow.”

    “Jesus.”

    “What are we going to do?”

    “And they’re just popping up right out of the ground and attacking folks?”

    “Yes. That’s what it says. Jesus. What are we going to do?”

    “Just shut up a second! Christ, I gotta think.”

    His face becoming paler and paler, Rob stood at the sink scrubbing his hands over and over as he intently surveyed the yard and pigpens.

    “Robert! Would you stop thinking about your goddamned pigs for one minute! We’ve got to do something.”

    “Don’t you raise your voice to me.” He spoke calmly but with thinly veiled menace. “Are the kids still asleep?”

    “I think so. We’ve got to get them up.”

    “No. No. Let them be for now. You lock the doors and keep an eye out. I’ll go down to the basement and get the guns.”

    Melinda was locking the deadbolt on the back door when she saw her first zombie. Stumbling through the muck among the squealing pigs, the thing moved slowly towards the house.

    “Robert! Get up here now. I see one.”

    “Hold tight, I’m coming,” he huffed as ran up the steps from the basement three at a time. “Out of the way, I see her.”

    Melinda had always felt uncomfortable with Robert’s obsession with guns and war. Every farmer needs a shotgun or two, he’d say about the guns. You can never trust those commies and our pinko government, especially with us so close to the States, he’d say to justify maintaining the stocked bomb shelter. Now, she breathed a sigh of relief as the droopy grey flesh on the dead woman’s face exploded into the air and the stumbling body fell still in the muck. She briefly wondered if the zombie had been someone she knew. Not with a bright pink skirt that short.

    “Okay, Melinda. We’re okay for now. Go rouse the kids and get them in the shelter.”

    While following Robert’s orders, she heard another two reports from the shotgun and hurried even more.

    *

    I’m sure you kids know all about the zombies by now. Hell, I’m sure you know far more about them than I do. You remember me rushing you out of bed and down into Daddy’s shelter for safety. You were still so sleepy, you didn’t really question what was going on. You probably questioned why I didn’t come with you with the RCMP that morning. A lot of things happened outside that shelter before you guys were rescued. That’s what I have to tell you about, though it’s the hardest thing to ever tell someone.

    *

    When she came back upstairs, Ed was again staring out the kitchen window towards the yard and pigpen. She noticed two more bodies, decayed but mostly intact, lying headless near the muddy grounds of the pigpen.

    “Don’t worry, dear. We’ve got lots of ammo. None of them bitches is gonna get near us. I’ll make sure of it.”

    Melinda looked quickly at the bodies in the yard and suddenly vomited into the sink. Her eye caught sight of a hand wriggling its way up through the muck. Half the flesh on the fingers had disintegrated so that only bone and tendon remained. Check that, she thought to herself, bone, tendon, and gaudy oversized rings. A series of silver bracelets rattled against each other and the boney wrist emerging from the pigpen floor. The high-pitched tinkling brought a convulsive shiver coursing through Melinda’s body and raised gooseflesh all up and down her arms.

    “Here comes another one. Don’t you worry a bit,” Ed told her, waiting until the zombie had fully emerged before blasting its head off. “I told you that farmers needed guns, didn’t I? Didn’t I?”

    “Y-yes. You did. You were right.”

    “That’s right, I was I right. Now you keep an eye out on the front of the house. I’ll stay here and cover the back. If you see anyone coming, just holler.”

    By the time the first RCMP cruiser pulled up in front of the house, a total of seven headless zombie bodies littered the muck and grass out back.

    “Rob! George Black is here. Thank God!”

    “What’s he want?”

    “He’s here to save us. What else would he be here for?”

    “Well, we don’t need no saving, but okay, let him in.”

    “Hi Mrs. P, Robert. You’ve heard the news, I see.”

    “Yes, we have,” Rob replied, resting the butt of the shotgun on the tiled floor of the front hallway. “Come on in. What the hell is going on out there?”

    “Your guess is as good as mine. Some religious folks are calling it the Rapture. Suzuki and his folk are blaming climate change—maybe some bug released from one of those melting icebergs . . . but it seems to me we’re all just groping around in the dark.

    My job is to keep folks safe, so that’s what I’m trying to do. We’ve been working our way around the county checking on folks. First, we start with homes close to the graveyards—that’s where the trouble is starting—and then to folks not so close. I hope you guys haven’t had much trouble all the way out here.”

    “If you call seven zombies not much trouble, then no we haven’t had much,” said Melinda.

    “Seven? My goodness, that’s the most I’ve heard of out in our parts. Where are they?”

    “Just out back here. Luckily, Rob keeps a shotgun around and took care of them. See?”

    “Well done, Robert. Well done, indeed.”

    “Just protecting my family. Anyone woulda done the same.”

    “ . . . five . . . six . . . sure enough, there’s seven of them. Uh-oh, looky there. Here comes number eight. Now where’d you come from, poor thing.”

    “Don’t worry, I got her,” Rob said.

    “Nope. Not this one. Let me do my job here, Robert.” Constable Black unholstered his sidearm and fired two shots at the zombie. The first entered her sheer black halter top, producing a hollow popping sound. When the zombie continued forward, he aimed more closely and sent shocks of half-blond half-black hair across the yard as the skull shattered.

    “Now that’s odd,” the policeman spoke slowly. “All of these corpses are female . . . young females from the looks of it. Where could they be coming from?”

    “Robert! What are you doing?” Melinda screamed too late.

    The back of Constable George Black’s head had disappeared through the open kitchen window in a blast from the farmer’s shotgun.

    Melinda fell to the floor behind the table, crying and repeating, “What did you do? What did you do? What did you do?”

    “You shut your mouth you stupid bitch. We don’t have time for crying now. Get up! GET UP! Now calm down. We gotta get rid of this body and the car.

    “What did you do? Why—”

    CRACK! Robert smacked her across the jaw, leaving a large red hand print. “Listen to me and listen good. You’re going to go down to the basement and get the spade. Also, grab another box of shotgun shells—you know what they look like. We’re going to bury him out there. Let the pigs unbury him if they ain’t too scared today. I’m taking his keys and I’m gonna move the car around behind the barn. I have the shotgun and this .38 in case any of those bitches get in my way. Do you understand? Do . . . you . . . understand? Nod if you understand!”

    Melinda nodded.

    “Okay then. Get to it! Go go go!”

    *

    That morning, I’d found out some very sad and disturbing news about your father. So, when the police came to save us—to take us away to safety, I had to stay behind to help your father. I don’t know if you remember the trouble then or not. The police really wanted to take us all to safety, but I couldn’t let them. Your father and I had some issues to deal with. I’m not proud of all my actions that day. That’s something you’re going to have to come to grips with as you grow up—being an adult doesn’t mean you always know what to do, or that you always make the right choices. Eventually, I convinced the police to take you two from the house and leave your father and I behind. I hope they took good care of you.

    *

    Melinda stumbled her way down the wooden stairs to the basement. The spade was hanging on the wall, suspended on two old nails. She began shuffling through the boxes on Rob’s workbench. She found the shells for the shotgun and something else. She remained in the basement for some time, unable to stop looking through the contents of this other box.

    “Melinda! Get up here now. Bring the spade for Christ’s sake.”

    Robert was staring out the kitchen window when she reached the top of the stairs.

    “There’s another one out there. Just give me a second,” he spoke, raising the barrel of the gun to his line of sight.

    *

    “Awake? Robert? Wake up, Rob. Good. Take a minute, look around, get your bearings. That’s right, you’re still in the kitchen. You’re still alive. You can’t move, no. You can’t speak, no. I tied you up. That’s right, I did it. I found what was in your little goodie box downstairs. You fucking pig!” Melinda finally broke down and slapped him across the face as hard as she could. With the adrenaline running through her veins, she left large purple hand-shaped welt.

    “Oh, no you don’t. Wake back up, you sick bastard. You’re going to be awake for this. I don’t know who you are anymore, or who I am, or what anything is while we’re at it . . . but I know you’re going to be awake to witness all this. Let’s see, you killed seven this morning. There’s one out there right now. How many more are going to show up, huh? Judging from those pantyhose in that box, there will be at least a dozen more. A dozen you sick fuck!” She wound up for another slap, but suddenly stopped herself. From out front came the sound of a car engine idling and a door being shut. She grabbed the shotgun and ran to the front door.

    “There’s one out back right now,” she yelled to the RCMP officers slowly approaching the front door. “Come on in.”

    “Sure thing, ma’am. We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

    “Oh, I’m not worried. Just have a look out there.”

    The two officers, a man and a woman, rushed into the kitchen and immediately saw Robert, gagged and tied up to a wooden chair with an assortment of mismatched torn pantyhose.

    “What’s going on here?” the female officer asked, turning around and seeing Melinda with shotgun raised towards them.

    “Listen carefully to me, okay? I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to take my kids, but I’m staying here with Robert and you’re going to leave us.”

    “Okay, okay, calm down now,” the male officer spoke. “We can’t just leave you two out here.”

    “Oh, yes you can, and you’re going to. But you’re going to make sure my kids are safe first.”

    “Where are your kids, ma’am?” asked the female officer.

    There was a sudden bang at the back door as a zombie wearing black lycra tights hit the door and began scratching.

    “The kids are downstairs in a shelter. They’re safe, but they don’t know anything about what’s going on here.”

    “And just what is going on here, ma’am?” the male officer asked.

    “You’re the cops. You tell me.”

    “We know what’s going on out there,” he replied. “But you’ll have to tell us what’s going on in here.”

    “On any other day, you’d be as happy as hell with what I’m going to show you. It would make your careers. Look out in the yard and tell me what you see.”

    “Okay. I see—what—seven headless zombie corpses?” he said.

    “Look closer. What else do you notice?”

    “My goodness, Tom. They’re all women, and look at what they’re wearing,” the female officer added.

    “My God. We’ve been looking for them for years. This is huge. Zombies or not, this is fucking huge,” Tom said. “We’ve got to take him in.”

    “No you don’t,” Melinda said. “You’ve got bigger things to take care of, including my kids. I’ll handle him.”

    “I’m afraid we can’t let—” Tom began.

    “Yes, we can Tom,” the female officer said. “We sure can.”

    “But, this is—”

    “I know who this is. I know damn well who this is. On any other day, we could be heroes for bringing him in. Today, we’ll be heroes for leaving him and bringing in others. That’s right, isn’t it, ma’am? He won’t be a problem for anyone much longer, right?”

    “You got that right,” Melinda said.

    The three stood silently in the kitchen for some time. Tom, constantly surveying the scene finally rested his eyes on the man gagged and tied up with old pantyhose. “Where did you say your kids were, ma’am?” he asked finally.

    “They’re downstairs in the shelter. Bring them out through the living room, please. They don’t need to see this.”

    “Okay, ma’am. We’ll do that. Now, what about you?”

    “I’m going to stay here.”

    “I understand. Do you want us to come back?”

    “I really don’t know what to say. You’ve got a lot of work to do out there. I’ve got my work here. If you can, come back tomorrow, but I won’t hold you to it.”

    “Alright, ma’am,” said the female officer. “Good luck.”

    *

    What happened that day was terrible for the world and terrible for our family. I hate to have to tell you this, but your father died that day. He kept a secret from us for a long time. You see, your father was a very sick man. I stayed behind to take care of him. I guess the best way to tell you is just to tell you: your father had a brain tumor. When the zombies first came out of the ground, the shock of the news just killed him. You have to understand that I had to stay behind to bury him—to make sure that he would never become a zombie himself. It was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. But, it’s all done now, so we can rest at peace, at least a little. I pray that I’ll see you tomorrow, but I don’t know what will happen to me, or especially to you kids, which is the scariest thing a parent can face.

    Love always,

    Mom

    *

    Later that night—she waited until at least ten luridly clothed women crowded the back door. She pulled Rob’s chair over in front of the door, ignoring the man’s struggles and the deep scratches the chair legs left in the linoleum. Gun cocked in one arm, she pulled open the door and fled to the shelter down the stairs.

    THE END

    15 Comments

    1. Wow! I get that Robert was a psychotic asshole who could get his family killed in the beginning, but I didn’t get the Pickton case reference until the officer note that all the zombies were females.

      Awesome.

      Comment by Mercurial Georgia on January 19, 2008 @ 7:30 pm

    2. That was an very good story. nice use of referencing to a real life murderer too.

      Comment by KC on January 21, 2008 @ 1:46 am

    3. Cracking story- justice was served

      Comment by Celtic1888 on February 14, 2008 @ 12:59 pm

    4. Good One, Davey – D!

      Comment by Chros on March 5, 2008 @ 11:47 am

    5. Awesome

      Comment by Chuck on May 8, 2008 @ 4:08 pm

    6. Nice story. REally like how you took this back to a real life reference. Nice Job.

      Comment by Kevin on June 8, 2008 @ 3:25 pm

    7. Zombies+Serial killers=Kick ass story!

      Comment by SMEAR on July 25, 2008 @ 5:46 pm

    8. I liked that one. Good job. Does she ever get rescued? Is the reference to the Green River killer?

      Comment by Zoe on July 29, 2008 @ 11:53 am

    9. yea… i LOVED the note… “your father was a sick man, i had to take care of him…. you see he had a brain tumor” i loved how you pushed the note in a diferent direction.

      Comment by Andrew on October 14, 2008 @ 12:23 am

    10. Poetic justice i think

      Comment by Thomas on December 19, 2008 @ 6:01 pm

    11. Very nice.

      Comment by fred on September 25, 2009 @ 9:40 pm

    12. And you harmanz (human) think us zambahz (zombies) are bad???

      Great story, I will very much enjoy dining on your brain matter harmanz.

      Comment by Feral Undead on December 4, 2009 @ 11:25 am

    13. Very cool story…the telltale heart…zombie style!

      Comment by Cherry Darling on December 6, 2009 @ 3:42 pm

    14. Nothing like a zombie story to show how fucked up human beings can be

      Comment by Seth on May 18, 2010 @ 9:12 pm

    15. Loved the story and really got into it. Rob got exactly what was coming to him LOL!

      Comment by L Martin on June 13, 2010 @ 6:11 pm

    RSS feed for comments on this post.

    Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.