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

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

August 3, 2011  Short stories   Tags:   

He rested his head against the door post. Cold sweat formed on his forehead and dripped down his face. Through the closed door he could hear them breaking through the flimsy barricade he had thrown up in front of the living room door. He trembled. He always knew this day would come but he never expected it would come so fast. No news on the TV or radio. No time to prepare.

He always thought he would be better prepared to face this crisis. He had read all the books, had watched the movies and TV shows, and had looked up everything he could online. Heck, he had even taken a test to assess his chances of surviving something like this based on where he lived and even the kind of house he lived in. That was how he knew how hopeless his situation was without any time to get ready.

Well, he did have one thing going for him. While other fathers taught their kids how to play tennis or baseball, his father had spent their father-son bonding time on the shooting range.  “A man has to know how to handle a firearm.” his father had always said, “A man has got to be able to defend himself and his family when the time comes.” He smiled at the memory.

He remembered a conversation overheard between his mother and father. “He is way too young to have a gun of his own.” His mother had said, “Maybe we need to wait till he is a little older.” “Hell, Gail,” His father said, “We have been shooting together for almost a year and a half. You should come out and see him. He knows it is not a game, He knows that a pistol is not a toy. Having one for his own will give him a little taste of responsibility. He will do just fine.” And that was that. For his birthday his father gave him a Sig Sauer P229 in .40 caliber. It was used but it was all his. “Make sure you store it high enough so your brother and sister can’t get to it.” His father has said.

The memory turned sour in his mind as he looked down at the pistol in his trembling hands.

He woke up this morning and knew it had happened. He did not know how he knew but he did. A look out the front window showed that they were already all over the street outside. A check out the back showed a couple in the alley behind the house and one already in his back yard. It was too late for his family to escape. They were already trapped. One person by himself might be able to get away but not an entire family, especially not a family with young children. He made his decision. He knew what he had to do.

He remembered standing beside his parent’s bed. “This was the only way,” he remembered thinking, “They won’t feel a thing. They will be spared the terror of a world where the dead walk and try to eat you.” He raised the pistol and sited on his mother’s head. Mom first, then dad. It was over quick.

He went to his brother’s room. His brother had been woken by the noise and stood rubbing his eyes. “What was that noise, Randy?” his brother asked in a sleepy voice. “Nothing Bri,” he said, “turn around and go back to bed, it’s going to be OK.” His brother turned around to get back into bed and he raised the pistol again.

He remembered finding his sister hiding in her closet. She sat all the way back with her knees almost hiding her tear streaked face. She was clutching a dirty ragged stuffed rabbit that she called ‘Mr.Sniffles’. As he looked at her his pistol wavered, then dropped. She looked back at him with terrified confused eyes. “I want my momma” she managed to say between sobs. He wanted to comfort her, tell her that everything would be all right.

He heard the glass shatter from the window in the living room. He knew they were coming, probably attracted by the noise of the gun. He knew he did not have much time. Fighting back the tears he raised the pistol again. “Shhhh” he said, “You will be with mom soon”.

He remembered seeing the misshaped outlines of them on the porch outside through the curtains of the now broken living room window as he came out of his sister’s room. He hastily pushed some furniture in front of the door but knew it was a futile gesture. Then he ran back to his room closed the door and leaned up against the doorpost with his pistol in his hand waiting, sweating, trembling.

“I did the right thing, it was the best thing to do.” He whispered to himself. “They would have wanted it this way.” He said. His voice sounded hollow in his ears. He heard them milling around in the living room. They did not know he was here.

Outside he heard the wail of police sirens growing louder. He knew any attempt made by the police would be futile but maybe the noise would draw them away from his house. Maybe enough would go that he might be able to get outside. He knew that if he could get out where he could move a little bit that he could escape. Maybe he was going to make it out of here after all. “All I gotta do is clear the hallway and the living room and I could make a break for it.” He told himself. The sirens wailed louder. They were his ticket out of this trap.

He opened the door and stepped into the hall and saw them clearly for the first time. Fear took hold of him. In the back of his mind he heard his father again, “Randy, there are two kinds of people, trained and untrained. When the shit hits the fan the untrained will panic. Those that are trained will fall back on their training and get the job done. That is why we train.” He stood riveted in place by the fear of what stood in front of him … then his training took over.

Breath in, breath out, bring the pistol up, site picture, squeeze the trigger, move through the target to the next, just like he had done a hundred times before on the range.

The first one he took down must have been a fresh kill. It used to be a woman. He noted that the scalp on the right side of the head was missing exposing the skull. Her right eye was missing along with much of her cheek. The front of her blouse was covered in purplish gore that was still drying. Her head exploded throwing a welter of blackish gore on the wall. The second one he took down looked to have been dead for some time. It used to be a man in a business suite. A hole in the chest cavity allowed a look inside the man to see shriveled and blackened organs. The businessman spun away and crumpled on the floor as a bullet tore through his skull.

One, two, three, four…. he counted as he moved down the hallway. It was important to know how many shots he had left in his 12 round magazine to be able to time the magazine change.  He began to feel good about his chances. He might make it. He felt his heart sink as he got his first look into his living room. The room had a full dozen of them in the room and he could see more on the porch. He knew he was not going to be able to get out that way. They had stopped their random milling about and were fixated on him. They surged toward him. He kept firing to create space to let him get back down the hall to his room without tripping. Shoot, shoot, step, shoot, shoot, step. The ones he took down tripped up those behind them slowing them down but they did not stop. He made it to his room, closed his door, and moved the dresser in front of it. It would not stop them but it might buy him some time.

The window! Maybe he could get out his window. He opened his drapes and drew up his blinds. They were there as well. At the sight of him they pounded on the glass. He heard the glass break and they spilled into the room. He heard his door give way in a splintering crack as they broke into his room from the hallway. He fired into the growing crowd backing up until he felt the wall against his back. He knew there was only one way out of this now. As the ravenous horde closed in on him he pressed the barrel of his pistol to his temple.

“Please forgive me.” He whimpered and pulled the trigger.


The medical examiner stepped into the house and looked around. “Oh man,” he said under his breath. He moved over to where two detectives stood talking in low tones. “Bob?” he said.

“Glad you are here, Jimmie.” said the taller of the two detectives, “You know detective Ramirez?”

“Yea,” the medical examiner said as Ramirez nodded in his direction, “Bob, what do you have for me?”

“Well, I am not altogether sure,” said Bob, “I got two adults, one male, one female in the master bedroom, one preteen male in the next room, one preteen female in the closet of that room there, looks like she was trying to hide. They all have what looks like a single GSW to the head.

In the room at the end of that hall we got a late teen male with a GSW to the head that appears to be self inflicted. I figure him as a possible for our shooter. There is a pistol in there with him. My gut is telling me murder-suicide but that does not explain all of this.” He gestured around the room.

“This place looks like a war zone with all the bullet holes,” said the medical examiner, “What, did you guys shoot it out with him before he got back to his room?”

“That is the weird part,” said Bob, “The first units responding heard multiple gunshots coming from within the house. They thought it was a gang thing and called for backup. When they got inside they found this place already shot up. They had this place buttoned up and said no one got out. We moved the barricade at the front door and the barricade at the shooters door and did a quick walkthrough but we have not touched anything. This is pretty much the way we found it.”

“Well, OK, let me get my people to work and see if we can’t find some answers.” said the medical examiner as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and started off down the hall.

“If you need me I’ll be outside chatting up the spectators.” said Ramirez, “Hey, when we put this to bed, you want to get a beer?”

“Can’t” said Bob, “I gotta go home and spend some ‘quality time’ with my son. We have been watching this show for the past five weeks and tonight is the season finale.”

“What, is it that zombie show?” chuckled Ramirez, “Zombies huh? I never figured you for something like that.”

“Eh, the show is all right, but my kid is really into it. You never know what kind of crazy stuff gets into kids heads nowadays. Go figure.”

“Yea” shrugged Ramirez, “Go figure.”


  1. LOL That was great ! And my son plays Nazi Zombies all the time ! I better hide his MP40 : )

    Comment by FRANK on August 3, 2011 @ 8:39 am

  2. Excellent! Great story!!!

    Comment by Glenn on August 3, 2011 @ 8:48 am

  3. that was a good story, keep up the good work!

    Comment by pete on August 3, 2011 @ 9:10 am

  4. LMAO! A BRILLIANT twist. I had a nasty feeling throughout that he was a nutter. But excellently done none the less.

    Comment by Patrick Turner on August 3, 2011 @ 9:31 am

  5. Wow! Awesome.

    Comment by Ashley on August 3, 2011 @ 10:54 am

  6. Very nice WPM. Original, tight, well paced, a short story that gets the job done. I like it!

    Comment by Pete Bevan on August 3, 2011 @ 10:55 am

  7. Great read, excellent short story material, short punchy and riverting. Thats why ICE is illegal!

    Comment by Luke on August 3, 2011 @ 4:46 pm

  8. I too, like an earlier commentator, felt that the boy “read” as psychotic rather than “zombie survivor” but your writing is so engaging that it made me want to stick it out to the finale. Well done.

    Comment by Clement S. on August 3, 2011 @ 4:58 pm

  9. Very nice. I really liked it!

    Comment by JamesA on August 3, 2011 @ 10:03 pm

  10. Well done. Keep writing.You gaffed me big time.

    Comment by John the Piper's Son on August 4, 2011 @ 12:55 am

  11. Damn Creepy but excellent story.

    Comment by GeorgeD on August 4, 2011 @ 2:07 am

  12. I loved it, I thought he was going to make it. But I see that all stories wont have a happy ending

    Comment by Rene on August 4, 2011 @ 5:29 am

  13. If Zombies do happened in real life people will panic in the same matter this kid did.

    Comment by Rene on August 4, 2011 @ 5:30 am

  14. Nice twist and take on a Zombie story. How one fantasy can trigger a psychotic break

    Comment by Jiggy on August 7, 2011 @ 12:35 am

  15. Really good story nice twist keep up the good work

    Comment by misty on August 8, 2011 @ 10:29 pm

  16. Brilliant.

    Comment by Justin on August 9, 2011 @ 11:03 am

  17. Excellant twist, keep writing.

    Comment by Pete on August 12, 2011 @ 11:24 am

  18. Damn you. I was toying with this idea a while ago. Nicely executed if you pardon the pun.

    Comment by Pete Bevan on August 16, 2011 @ 4:26 pm

  19. Ohh I am pissed today coz I got rudely awoken while havin a awesome and realistic zombiefied dreams hahah
    I guess I better keep those emotions in check 😉
    .. Be careful what you wish for huh
    Anyhow great story !

    Comment by WhoCares1719 on August 25, 2011 @ 8:30 am

  20. That was great,I was a little confused about the end part but then i realised what happened,Good story!!

    Comment by Caalum Blair on August 26, 2011 @ 4:31 pm

  21. Awesome story. Hope you write more. Well done!

    Comment by Lou on August 29, 2011 @ 2:48 pm

  22. Well now, this was a good story. I appreciated the way the plot unfolded, but I had two thoughts. Imagine if instead of dying from the self inflicted gunshot wound, maybe our lead role woke up in an asylum. Furthermore on a political note, it is stories like these that the media and powers that be crave for their (unconstitutional) anti-gun campaigns. Just a little something for all our readers to think about.

    Comment by Oppressed1 on September 4, 2011 @ 2:31 pm

  23. Amazing… very good plot,very logical… your writing skill is promising.. make a career out of this… trust me… it’ll work for you…

    Comment by waqas on September 18, 2011 @ 9:04 am

  24. Wow. That was great. I know I’m a little behind but I just recently found the site. I have worked my way though a number of stories on this site and this is one of the better ones that I have read. I did not see the ending coming until the M.E. showed up and it was all brought together with a interesting bit of humor at the end. Fantastic.

    Comment by Jordan on May 9, 2012 @ 10:34 am

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