Friends, until the end...

Friends, until the end…

By: Roger Alderman

The sunlight reflecting off the scope of the rifle finally offered oblivion from Mark’s torment. Mark smiles in thankful acceptance of what is to come next. He slowly rose to his feet, as small amounts of his meal fell to the ground. “Shoot Him, Dammit!” the man in the yellow hat shouted to the rifleman.

The shot rang out, as Mark found himself recalling the day everything changed. He remembered standing inside his apartment holding cash ready to exchange it with the delivery man for the pizza he craved so badly: A large Veggie lover. He chuckled as memories of his hippie parents telling him, “Eating Meat was Murder”.

Mark opens the door with excitement in his every move and a smile on his face,” hey man, I… you okay.” Mark’s happiness drained from his face, as he examined the sickly delivery person. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Twenty-Five,” he spouted. The deliveryman shoved the pizza into Mark’s hands and burst through the doorway yelling, “bathroom,” as he grabbed his stomach.

“Yeah man, through there,” Mark cringed at the sight of the sickly man and pointed him to the bathroom. The deliveryman entered the bathroom and slammed the door, as Mark grabbed his phone, “I’m gonna let your people know you’re sick and using the bathroom. So, you won’t get into any trouble.” Mark listened repulsed, as sounds of gaging echoed beyond the thin bathroom door. He grabs the television remote and turns up the volume on the episode of Staggering Zombie Horde.

Mark looks confused, as twenty minutes slowly pass by and there is no response from the pizza deliveryman’s employer. Concerned for the delivery man’s health he creeps close to the bathroom door, “Hey buddy, you doing okay in there?” Mark stands in shock before the flimsy bathroom door, as it burst open revealing a ravenous pizza delivery zombie.

“Holy shit!” Mark yells, as he runs into the living room seeking a weapon. The zombie pounces on Mark, but not before he could roll over. They struggle on the floor with the zombie on top of Mark. The zombie attempts to bit his repeatedly, but Mark deflects the series of attacks away from his face and neck.

Mark notices his girlfriend’s high heels under the coffee table nearby, but he would have to risk being bitten in order to grab one of them. He quickly determines that he must arm himself with one of the high heels. He pushes the zombie up, as he drives his body closer to one of the shoes. He smiles having grabbed one of the shoes, a searing heat and pressure quickly guides his attention back to the fray.

Mark thrust the spike of the heel through the eye socket and deep into the skull of the pizza delivery zombie. The eye socket erupts gushing all manner of noxious and spoiled body humors on him. Mark pushes the zombie off of himself, “Fuckin’ Asshole,” he kicks the body of the zombie. “Shit,” stinging pain places his attention on the bite wound inflicted during the brawl.

The bullet crashes into his cheek crunching and crackling, as bone shatters. It is in these microseconds Mark finds himself thrust back into his recent past, as his body begins to fall to the ground. Deep feelings of regret fill the few thoughts remaining.

Mark recalls those first days of his life, as a part of the growing zombie horde. He remembers the difficulties he experienced moving from his vegan diet to his new diet of brains and flesh. His memories flood his mind of gagging with each bite of his victim’s flesh.

Unlike the other zombies he tried to go, as long as possible between meals. Others simply gave into the hunger for flesh, as it staved off the pains of their decaying body’s. There were a few who tried to resist the hunger including his friend Oliver, whom he had meet while watching the horde tear apart a preschool seeking its inhabitants.

Mark and Oliver became the best of zombie friends. This day would prove that each was more than willing to die for one another. The friends had been out for a zombie stroll. When they happened upon a large home with windows boarded up. Seeing other zombies beating on the outside of the house they decided to see what all the excitement was about.

Suddenly Mark, Oliver, and the throng of hungry dead were netted by a group of armed people. Together they struggled to try and free themselves, but the trap was sprung. The sound of a roaring motor engine announced there was a trip to be made. Mark and Oliver looked at one another in shock, as the entire mob was pulled off their feet and drug behind a pick-up truck.

Only Oliver and Mark survived the ride, as the rest melted away due to the high speed of the pick-up truck and the heat of the road surface. The undead friends rose from the netting, as the truck slowed to a stop. “Sum bitches is still ‘live in dehr! Looky here,” called the first armed man in a yellow hat to exit the truck. The man raised his rifle and took careful aim at Oliver. Mark noticed the man’s dark intentions toward his friend. Thinking quickly, for a zombie, he tried to place himself between Oliver and the man.

Mark found himself tangled and fell before he could save his friend. He watched as the man’s rifle turned Oliver’s head into a fine red mist. A rage grew in Mark and he stood up. The man cried out,” I’m out gimme a round quick.” Mark dove atop the man and pulled away a mouthful of the man’s hide. He smiled and returned to his feet with his anger sated, but a feeling of loneliness fell upon him realizing his friend was gone and he was again alone in the world.

The sunlight reflecting off the scope of the rifle finally offered oblivion from Mark’s torment. Mark smiles in thankful acceptance of what is to come next. He slowly turned to face the man with the rifle, as small amounts of his meal fell to the ground. “Shoot Him, Dammit!” the man in the yellow hat shouted to the rifleman.

  

Mark felt at peace, as he fell into the embrace of oblivion. She wrapped her arms around him. In that instance, he knew he would be alone no more.