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  Bright of the Living Dead

  Thomas M. Malafarina

  THE WORLD AS IT ONCE was no longer existed. Planet Earth was crawling with maggot-infested flesh-eating creatures that the press gave the suitable name “Zombies” in honor of the monsters depicted in George Romero’s movie, “Night Of The Living Dead”.

  The similarity to the horrifying creatures from that early horror movie was remarkable, as if somehow Mr. Romero had the ability to see into the future. Also, unlike the quick-moving undead creatures in the countless zombie spin-off movies which were produced in the forty years following Romero’s ground-breaking film, (no pun intended), these actual zombies lumbered around mindlessly at a slow pace similar to how they were pictured in his original film.

  It was hard to comprehend that it had only been a few short months since the first dead body had clawed its way out of its grave then plodded across the cemetery grounds then ripped out the throat of the elderly groundskeeper. The creature left the devastated remains of the old man nothing more than a human jigsaw puzzle of dismembered limbs, innards and chunks of torn flesh, his brain sucked completely out of his aged skull. The media promptly called that particular event ‘Zombie Ground Zero’.

  It wasn’t long until countless other formerly dead souls around the globe began to climb from their graves or simply got up from their deathbeds to roam the lands in search of living human flesh to devour. One thing they all seemed to have in common was an insatiable need to consume the living.

  At first, the authorities believed that they had the ‘plague’ under control; a plague was how they preferred to classify the phenomena although no viruses or germs had ever been identified, nor did they never really understand the cause. All they knew was that corpses were wandering the world’s streets hunting and eating humans alive. Whether recently dead or a one-hundred-year-old crawling sack of bones with scarcely enough flesh to matter these beasts wanted food and humans were at the top of their menu.

  Some people who had been attacked by zombies and had managed to survive with only scratches or bites usually ended up dying within a matter of days only to return to join the ever-multiplying ranks of the living dead.

  Someone, somewhere, no one recalled exactly who, discovered that separating the zombies’ heads from their bodies would kill them or perhaps re-kill them might be a better description. This temporarily gave the living humans a leg up so to speak on the slow-moving and clumsy creatures. For a while, it seemed like with the efforts of the police, the armed forces and local hunters the zombie threat would be put down. But eventually, the walking dead won the day by the sheer overwhelming numbers.

  When the authorities lost control of the situation millions of distraught people chose to commit suicide rather than end up as a meal for the vile creatures. As a result, many of these suicides simply came back from the dead and became zombies themselves. The government eventually ordered all forms of burials to cease and proclaimed that immediate cremation upon death would be the order of the day. They dug massive pits not only for the recently departed but for the remains of the zombies as well setting them ablaze with the hopes of keeping down the spread of disease.

  However, when millions of rotting bacteria riddled corpses are permitted to walk about freely with sections of skin sloughing off, blood pooling in puddles everywhere and body parts rotting and falling to the ground the idea of disease control and sanitation became an impossibility. And once the utilities shut down and there was no more electricity, heat or clean water industrialized countries became something worse than third-world countries practically overnight. As a result, sickness ran rampant killing millions; further adding to the zombie population.

  Now several months after “Zombie Ground Zero”, the world of civilized humanity was essentially over with anarchy raging among survivors. A survivor was almost as likely to be killed by a fellow survivor as a walking cadaver. Some small pockets of humans still managed to stay alive by banding together in isolated areas, but it would only be a matter of time until they too would cease to be. Even if the zombies didn’t get them, they might find themselves either dying of starvation, illness or by being killed groups of other humans. Rumor had it that some survivors had turned to cannibalism making them not much better than the roaming dead.

  In an abandoned apartment in a small town in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania Jonathan Bright opened his eyes to pitch blackness seeing that night had fallen. Back in junior high more than a decade before the world had gone to Hell some of the “overachievers” in his school gave Jonathan the dubious nickname “Notzo” as in “Not So Bright”. He never minded the joke or the ribbing he took over the name and actually sort of liked the attention that went along with it. He was basically a quiet and reserved sort of person so being included made him feel a bit special. Before too long the nickname stuck and most of his friends knew him as Notzo although by now he suspected most, if not all of those friends were gone.

  Jonathan couldn’t recall how long he had been sleeping this time; it might have been hours, or it might have been days. Time didn’t seem to have much relevance any longer in this repulsive new world. Now sitting in the darkness the last thing he recalled was that a number of zombies had attacked him and somehow, he had managed to escape finding his way into this building. He had no idea if he had been hurt and at the time didn’t really care; he had been too exhausted to care so he just collapsed. How long ago that had been, he couldn’t recall.

  He lay on the floor deciding whether to bother waking up or to go back to sleep and try to regain his strength. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a meal and was famished. Food supplies were dwindling and unless something came in a can or unopened bottle survivors knew not to consume it.

  Jonathan’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard a rustling sound from somewhere in the room somewhere nearby. It was a sound, with which he had become frighteningly familiar. One or more of those walking carcasses were in the room with him it sounded like two most likely bumbling about in their slow, spastic way. He heard them moaning and groaning making those guttural sounds they all seemed to make. He didn’t know if it was some form of communication or just some leftover living human memory telling them to try to speak. He knew that if they found him here, they would fall on him and rip his insides out, so he lay still, hoping that they would simply give up and move on. He remembered his gun and carefully tried to feel around for it only to realize that in his exhaustion he must have dropped it somewhere in the room. There was little he could do now but to play dead and hope for the best.

  After a few moments, he felt a bump against his ankle followed by a deep growl. He smelled the thing’s decomposing flesh and realized that one of the creatures had just bumped into his leg. He was unsure what to do. For some odd reason the thing didn’t yet recognize him as a human or else it would have attacked him immediately. He continued to lay still. Soon Jonathan heard more rustling nearby as he heard another one of the creature’s approach to join them first. The two stood right next to him apparently confused about whether or not to attack. He found this extremely odd, as these savages never hesitated before. He had no previous understanding that simply playing dead could fool the creatures but it seemed to be working for him, so he continued to lie quietly, without a sound.

  He recalled how someone had discovered the way to kill them by severing their brain stem. That had likely been discovered accidentally as well. So maybe he was on to something here.

  The second zombie struggled down to a kneeling position hovering just a few inches above Jonathan’s face. On the verge of vomiting from the stench, combined with his fear and disgust, Jonathan forced himself to remain perfectly still. He decided that if the thing got any closer, he might have no choice but to try to roll away clear then fight his way out; better to go down with a fight than simply lie down and offer himself up as a main course. But he chose to wait just a few moments longer. He wanted to see
if he could pull off this playing possum idea.

  The thing’s smell was beyond revolting as it hovered closer to Jonathan’s face. Jonathan felt something fall from the creature landing on his own tightly closed lips. He could feel the thing crawling slowly across his lips its squirming body sliding and slithering. With utter revulsion, he realized that a worm must have fallen from the monster’s face and landed on his lips. These beasts had worms and maggots crawling in and out of their flesh constantly and now the tiny vermin was trying to find a way inside of his mouth. The slimy thing continued to writhe its way between Jonathan’s tightly pursed lips.

  After a few interminable moments of indecision, the two creatures miraculously gave up and lumbered away trudging across the room in their convulsive manner. The pair went out into the hall and stumbled down the stairs leaving the building. Jonathan listened for a few more horrible moments to assure that they were gone, feeling the maggot working its way between his lips. Then he spat out the vile creature struggled to his feet. His body was racked with pain he assumed partially from the previous zombie attack, which he had survived and partially from lying on the hard floor for God knew how long.

  Every muscle in his body was stiff as he clumsily staggered across the room closing the door to prevent any other zombies that might be lurking about from entering. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how his awkward movements reminded him of the inept zombies that just left. “Bright of the living dead.” He thought to himself amazed at somehow while his world was dying all around him, he still managed to find humor in the oddest situations. Jonathan quietly closed the door and then latched the deadbolt.

  “Deadbolt.” Jonathan thought again chuckling; yet another one of those strange humor things but this time it sent a cold chill down his spine. Once he thought about it, he noticed that he actually was quite cold. He would have to look around the room for a blanket or another coat.

  Walking over to a boarded-up window he did a quick glance outside through one of the cracks between the boards to see if any more of the creatures were out there and of course, they were; since they were just about everywhere. He could see them staggering around in the moonlight. They seemed to walk about minding their own business oblivious to him standing inside the room just a few yards above them.

  He reached into his pants pocket and took out a lighter flicking it to life and looking around his new surroundings. It appeared that he was in a second-floor bedroom of the building where most of the furniture had been removed. That little furniture which remained was either lying scattered around the room or else broken into pieces. He found a decorative scented candle in a glass jar in one of the corners of the room. Using his lighter Jonathan lit the candle basking in the fragrant sweet scent of apple pie traveling up into his nose. It beat the Hell out of the constant and interminable reek of decay that was the fragrance of the world these days. He realized he was going to have to find somewhere to get a bath sometime soon as he was becoming as ripe as those walking carcasses.

  Continuing to investigate the room, Jonathan found a wooden chair that seemed to be strong enough to support him and sat down to contemplate his next move. He also wanted to review the events which lead up to his being stuck in that room. He remembered running in the darkness through town in search of other survivors and trying to avoid the packs of man-hunting zombies. He had only let his guard down for a moment when three of the awful things had surrounded him. Pulling out his forty-five he shot the first one right between the eyes, the creature’s head exploding in rain of black blood, skull fragments, and decayed brain matter.

  One of the others had grabbed him snagging on the sleeve of his coat near the wrist. He had spun around and pistol-whipped the creature, shaking himself free just as the third one fell on his back trying to sink its rotten teeth into him and clawing uselessly at the leather jacket. Jonathan shook that last one off and ran down the alley for all he was worth. Although he couldn’t remember exactly, he must have found this place and stumbled up to this room with his last ounce of strength before collapsing into unconsciousness.

  Jonathan sat up straight with a jolt. His gun! Where was his gun? Holding the candle, he crawled on his hands and knees around the room looking for it until he noticed a glimmer of light reflecting in the candlelight. He saw the gun laying just a few feet from where he had slept. He was furious with himself not having it ready earlier when the two zombies were sniffing about the room. Then he realized that it was probably best that he hadn’t found it because using it would have brought dozens more of the creatures down on his head.

  Yet he still couldn’t believe his luck or understand how he could have fooled them simply by pretending he was dead. Maybe these walking puss sacks were finally starting to lose it. Maybe their rotting brains were winding down and would eventually simply die off; perhaps not. He wondered what would happen when there was not enough of the living remaining to sustain the dead. Perhaps they’d just sit down and rot away to nothing, turning the future of the earth over to the insects and animals once again.

  Jonathan suddenly got an idea, although a slightly crazy and potentially dangerous idea. If he could fool the zombies once, perhaps he could fool them again. Now that he thought about it every time, he or anyone else encountered the walking dead they did what any sane human would do; they either ran away screaming or attacked and tried to kill the things. As such, the zombies had reacted in kind. He couldn’t remember a single instance where someone had pretended to be dead or pretended to be one of the zombies to see what would happen. Mankind was simply not made that way; the fight or flight instinct was just too strong.

  Jonathan wondered what would happen if instead of acting like a typical human he acted like one of them. He imagined himself lumbering down the street acting exactly like one of the living dead dragging his leg and moaning mournfully. It sounded absolutely crazy at first but the more he thought about it the more he liked it. After all, he had sort of proven the theory just a little while earlier. The two zombies that had him pinned helpless in the room didn’t attack him. Jonathan assumed it had been because they thought he was already dead. Then he considered another problem, pretending he was dead lying on a floor was one thing but pretending he was one of them walking around among them might be a whole other thing entirely. But he was excited about the possibility and had to test it to see if it would work; and somehow, he believed it would.

  Jonathan decided that he’d wait until daylight. Then he’d watch until there were only one or two of them walking around outside and he’d put his gun in his jacket pocket just in case. Next, he planned to stagger out into the street; out among them shuffling like the zombies did and would see how they reacted. If they ignored them he would continue walking. If they tried to attack him, he’d simply blow their heads off and run back to safety before any others saw him. It was good that he had to wait a while because his muscles were really aching and stiff at the moment. He guessed it might be a few hours until daylight and hopefully if he stayed awake and took time to stretch a bit the aches would eventually go away.

  He was eager to test out his new idea because he was quite literally starving. He hadn’t eaten for days and if this new strategy worked, it would give him a lot more freedom to move around among the accursed things without consequence.

  For several hours, he stood, paced and walked around the room bending and stretching from time to time trying to get that stiffness out of his muscles but didn’t seem to have much luck. He needed to get outside, out of the dismal room, out into the world to move around; then hopefully to find some food.

  Jonathan saw the morning sun shining through the slits between the boards covering the window on the east side of the room. He walked over to the window and carefully removed one of the boards from the lower corner of the window frame and looked outside. There didn’t seem to be any zombie activity in the area.

  He quietly walked over to the locked door, placing his ear against it and listening for any movement i
n the upstairs hall. He knew that if they were out there, he would hear them because they were mindless, reanimated lumps of what was once human flesh. They were completely void of any intelligence or the ability to plan and strategize. It was not as if they could lie quietly in the darkness waiting for him to give up and come out. That was simply not how they functioned. They could no more suppress their noises than could a hurricane. Jonathan suspected that they didn’t even think when attacking; being driven by some internal instinct or hunger rather than any form of logical thought.

  Jonathan unlatched the deadbolt then slowly turned the doorknob keeping his shoulder against the door in case he had to close it quickly. He opened the door about two inches, half expecting to see several living dead fingers push their way through the gap, but nothing happened.

  He pulled the door open hesitated for a moment trying his best to remember the types of spastic movements these creatures made then he staggered out into the upstairs hall. He forced a dull and slack look onto his face. Unfortunately, he could not duplicate the gray film of death that covered the zombie’s eyes but if he kept his head down and avoided eye contact, he still might be all right.

  He slowly turned his head to the left and right looking down the hall, watching and listening for any zombies but found none. Continuing in his awkward gate he made his way to the top of the stairs again looking and listening. Little by little, one step at a time Jonathan made his way down the long flight of stairs stopping occasionally when a particular step would let out an extra loud creak. He thought to himself that if this plan worked out, he’d have to remember for future reference not to be so cautious walking around. That was a human trait; the zombies always stumbled about knocking down whatever was in their way without consideration. But for now, he decided that caution would still be the best way to handle this experiment; until he was out among them. Again, he thought of his “Bright of the Living Dead” comment earlier and had to suppress a nervous chuckle.