J. Gonzalez - Back From The Dead

And through that attack he hoped to spark a feeding response in them. If, that is, they were anything like the zombies he knew of in horror movies.

Scott lifted John up by his armpits. “We gotta throw him into the zombies. Help me.”

As Scott lifted John, Steve stepped up to help. Together, the two of them dragged John over and then they shoved him into the zombies.

As John fell in a sprawling heap on the zombies, they moved back and made those guttural sounds again. “ Aaaugggh! Maaaguuughhh! ”

And then with seemingly lightning speed, the switch was flicked.

They attacked.

John hadn’t even hit the ground yet when Zombie #1 grabbed his arm and yanked him up. As John was hauled up, Zombie #2 dove forward and clamped his jaws in the hollow of his neck.

John’s eyes flew open and he screamed.

The zombies tore into John in a frenzy.

Scott took an involuntary step backward; they all did. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from John struggling in the zombies’ grip as they tore and bit into his flesh.

Zombie #2 had torn a chunk of flesh from John’s neck and was chewing it. Zombie #1’s fingernails made deep gouges in John’s arm as he sought firm purchase, trying to get a foothold on what was offered. Zombie #1’s face dove forward and bit a chunk of John’s cheek away from his face, the flesh tearing away with a wet ripping sound. John’s scream became a gurgle as Zombie #2’s long-nailed fingers clawed into his belly, pushing their way through hard muscle. Blood flowed, and John struggled furiously as he was held firmly by the two zombies.

Scott watched, not breathing. Beside him Dave, Steve, and Gordon stood with tense expressions, their features showing a mixture of fear, excitement and awe.

“Holy shit,” Steve murmured.

“Fuck!” Dave said.

Gordon said nothing, as did Scott.

John was caught in the grip of the zombies. His eyes were wide with pain and fright, pleading in urgency to be saved. He reached out a bloodied arm and screamed again as Zombie #2 tore a chunk of flesh from it and shoved it into its mouth. A gout of blood geyesered from the wound and that seemed to be the end of the struggle for John. He collapsed, almost sagging to the ground, but the zombies kept him propped up as they tore into him and devoured him.

Rotted teeth tore into flesh. Decayed fingers with hard bone and nails pierced tender meat, tearing open muscle and gristle. Zombie #2’s fingers dug into John’s belly again, this time securing better hold, and ripped it open, exposing John’s digestive system. A horrible smell arose, a mixture of blood, and bile. Zombie #2 pulled something out, some unidentifiable organ that burst open when it fell to the ground. Another odor was released that overwhelmed him. Scott turned away, gagging, and he stepped back, seeking fresh air.

“Fuck,” Dave said again, following him.

“Shit,” Gordon said. He went further, heading outside into the night.

Scott took one final glance back before he followed his friends outside. John was on the ground now, on his back. The zombies were still feeding in a frenzied manner but John was no longer struggling. His sightless eyes stared upward.

Scott stumbled outside and closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath of the night air and fought to retain his equilibrium. The sights and smells from inside made him swoon. He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to contain his wits. His friends were doing the same thing; nobody wanted to be the first to puke.

“Holy fuck, man,” Steve said, his voice slightly strangled. He staggered away, heading toward the gazebo.

One by one they followed Steve, where they sat down on the benches that lined the gazebo’s interior. Scott slumped down, taking deep breaths. He felt light-headed but was beginning to feel calm, more in control. He sat there for a moment catching his breath, waiting for the sickness to subside.

Steve broke the silence. He let out a slight chuckle, his voice low, excited. “Goddamn man…that was fucking intense! Did you see that shit?”

“No shit, man,” Dave said, his tone of voice equally excited.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Scott said, still coming down from the excitement buzz. “But I have to say that was the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Me too!” Dave clapped Gordon on the back. “You did it, man! You made real zombies!”

“Yeah, I did,” Gordon said. He looked at the others and smiled. Scott smiled back. Gordon’s face was flushed and Scott could see why. What happened in that guest house was some intense shit and they all looked blind-sided by it, but at the same time it was awesome.

“Tell me the truth,” Scott said to Gordon. “Did you know that would happen?”

Gordon shook his head. “No. I didn’t. I had an idea it might happen, but…” He shook his head. “I didn’t know it would happen like that .”

Neither did I , Scott thought. He took one last deep breath and stood up. “Let’s go inside and get a drink.”

They got up and headed into the house.

It was a good thing the attack had momentarily shocked the other guys. It helped explain Gordon’s own expression.

Gordon reclined in the living room easy chair, nursing a beer as the other guys relived the attack in excited tones. He grinned and made the occasional comment, especially when it came to John Elfman. “That fucker’s had this coming to him,” Gordon said. “Sonofabitch has been nothing but a complete asshole since the day we met him.”

“You got that right,” Scott said. He pounded his beer, set the bottle down on the coffee table. “Good riddance.”

“Did you see the way he looked at us when the zombies were eating him?” Steve exclaimed. He was the most excited of the bunch. He was pacing the living room, his lanky figure jittery with adrenalin that the alcohol was having no effect on. “He looked like he was crying to us for help!”

“What a dumb shit,” Dave said. He settled back on the sofa. “I still can’t believe that idiot came with us. Like he thought everything was going to be cool.”

“No shit,” Gordon said. John Elfman had been a thorn in his side, too, but not enough to kill him.

“So what do we do now?” Dave was looking at Scott. He took a swig of beer.

“I don’t know,” Scott said. He looked contemplative. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see how much of John gets eaten.”

“Shit’s gonna be a bitch to clean up,” Steve said. He finally plopped himself down on an easy chair.

“Yeah, it is,” Scott agreed. He took a sip of his own beer. “But it’s gotta be done. Dried blood is just gonna smell after while.”

“Those zombies are gonna smell worse,” Gordon said.

Scott nodded. For the first time he looked like he was seriously considering the complications of keeping two zombies in his guesthouse. “I say tomorrow we check and see what kind of mess we have. If there’s any pieces of John left, we snag them and burn them in the fireplace. Then we secure the zombies and clean all the blood and shit in the room. That will take care of that.”

“And then we hang those fucking air fresheners all over,” Steve suggested. “That’ll mask the smell.”

Scott nodded. “Exactly. There’s gonna be a week or so of some nasty ass rankness coming out of there and we have to mask it as much as possible.”

“What are we going to tell people if they ask us what happened to John?” Gordon asked. He’d reached a sort of zen state as far as fitting in with the mood of the general group; inside he was absolutely horrified over what they’d done and witnessed. He was more terrified of his own part in it. I helped make this happen , he thought. If I hadn’t gotten that book from Gaines, hadn’t suggested we turn them into zombies —