A Zombie Christmas Read online

  A Zombie Christmas

  1

  I lowered my rifle and put my left eye on the scope.

  He was an ugly sucker.

  From what I could tell, he used to be a man around five foot five or six, maybe seven. Hell, I couldn’t tell the exact height from just a tiny scope. His suit was disheveled, full of dirt, and blood (it looked fresh, a recent feast perhaps), and half of his face was gone.

  This zombie was currently investigating my Santa Claus and reindeer display. He was studying it like he knew what it was or remembered what it was.

  “Don’t pick up Rudolf. Don’t.” He leaned over and picked up Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer.

  That did it.

  You see, the biggest problem was this.

  When you messed with Rudolph, you screwed up the whole display. All the reindeer were attached by string, and that string led into the hands of Santa, who was glued by his butt to the sleigh he was sitting in. That meant, you picked up one, you picked up all of them. Sure enough, as soon as the zombie picked up Rudolph, the rest of the display just went into disarray.

  I didn’t want to shoot the zombie just yet, because if he fell forward then it would crush the display all together. So I waited until he was trying to walk away with Rudolph, shambling off, the display dragging behind him.

  Bam!

  That’s when I dropped him. Perfect head shot, display still safe.

  I was on the balcony of the house when I made the shot, so I took my rope ladder and dropped it over the side. I put the rifle down and grabbed a couple of pistols nearby. I checked their chambers, full, locked, and loaded. I put the guns in their holsters and climbed down to the ground.

  I walked across the lawn, eyes back and forth, looking for zombies.

  I stopped and got down on one knee, pulled out my right pistol, light reflecting off the metal.

  I aimed.

  Bam!

  It was another perfect head shot. The zombie hit the pavement, and he didn’t move. The noise had stirred up more of them, so I had to get to my display, fix it, and then get back. I know its stupid trying to worry about Christmas decorations in a world filled with zombies, but like I always say, it’s the little things that keep us sane.

  So, I grabbed Rudolph out of the dead zombie’s hands, and I put the display back in order.

  I quickly made my way back to the house, where nothing was stirring, not even a mouse.

  I took out a few with my pistol as I ran across the yard, climbed back up the rope ladder and took my place on the balcony, so I could guard the house. I turned on my boom box. Perry Como flooded the air with Christmas cheer.

  The zombies were getting restless around me, so I decided it was time to even out the herd.

  It was pretty easy shooting.

  I stopped my rampage when something white hit my nose. I looked up into the sky as flakes of snow began to fall. It was the first snow fall of the year.

  2

  Two days passed.

  The decorations were unharmed, including the Santa Claus display.

  I was sitting in my living room reading a Stephen King book – “Duma Key.”

  The door bell rang.

  I grabbed my gun and walked over to it

  I looked out the peep hole as a zombie shambled down off the porch. There were four of them out there. All zombied up, rotting, bloody, fresh from the grave, and they were all dressed like carolers and holding caroling books. One had it upside down, two had theirs sideways, and the smart one, who rang the doorbell, had his right side up.

  I didn’t put up anything with lights in it or on it. There were no lights around the house. I had muted decorations so they wouldn’t attract attention. I don’t know why or how the carolers found me, but they did.

  I began to smile as they grunted out Jingle Bells.

  I didn’t know if I should shoot them or let them be. I stood there a moment and thought about it, listening to the comical tune coming from the mouths of those zombies. I went over to the window and looked out onto the lawn. Their singing was attracting other zombies, so I knew I had to take them out, funny as it was.

  I put on my cold weather gear and ventured upstairs. I went into the master bedroom and walked over to the balcony doors.

  I stepped outside and into the cold grey light of dusk.

  I checked my decorations to see if they were intact, my Santa Claus and reindeer, the cross on my front lawn, the elves and Santa’s work shop, the nativity scene, and various candy canes I had spread throughout the yard. They were all safe.

  Now, I know, most people would say, why?

  It made me feel good inside that is why I did it. It might be a zombie filled world, but I was still going to try and enjoy it as a human being. Also, I did it for those few survivors in my neighborhood and those who wandered in. I hoped a lawn full of Christmas would bring them some kind of cheer in this dreary holiday season. It was the first Christmas since the zombie invasion. It was the least I could do.

  I looked down at the four caroling zombies as they went into a rendition of Frosty the Snowman, the year’s first snow only a couple of inches underneath their feet and melting fast. The group, of course, was led by that one smart zombie. He seemed to remember quite a bit of whatever he did as a human. He was leading them and pointing to their books even though none of them turned a single page. He was the one that started grunting out the tune to Frosty just like Jingle Bells before. They just sort of followed after him.

  I aimed my gun at them, but had to stop because I couldn’t aim. My smile had turned into full fledge laughter. I let it pass, wiped the tears from my eyes, and then did my business. By the time I was done, fifteen zombies lay littered across my lawn, bleeding red into the snow, the four carolers included.

  I went back inside.

  I didn’t feel up to the clean up just yet.

  I turned on the Christmas tree and watched the white and colored lights, dance a blinking happy tune across the walls and ceiling of my room. I stoked the fire with some more wood, turned on some Christmas music, sat back in my chair, and closed my eyes.

  The last image I saw (which was on purpose mind you) was of the picture on my mantel. I fell asleep with that image in my head.

  3

  DECEMBER THE 23rd

  I woke up in the morning to a knock at the door and a quite house. The Christmas tree was still sparkling and doing its thing, the ornaments hanging here and there with a precision touch, neat and organized.

  I grabbed a pistol nearby, shook the cobwebs free, and walked over to the peephole.

  I peered through.

  I reached down and unlocked the door, putting the pistol on the side table as I did.

  “I was wondering if you were going to let us in or not,” Jim replied as he stepped into the house. He turned around to see where Fred was. He was still standing guard on the top step, so intent on watching the area that he didn’t even know the door was open or that two people were talking. “He’s good Mike, too good sometimes.” Jim tapped the man on the shoulder. “Fred. It’s safe. We can go inside.” Fred didn’t jump or move in any spastic manner, he just turned and followed after the men.

  The door closed and locked.

  Inside the house, Mike, Jim, and Fred took a seat in front of the fire place. Mike threw a few logs on the fire, and a second later the fire was blazing hot.

  “Can I get you guys something to drink?”

  “What do you have?” Jim was thirsty, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  “I have homemade eggnog, beer, wine, and water.”

  “Any soda?”

  “Don’t drink it.”

  “How about some water?”

  “Fred, you want anything?” Mike a
sked as the man stared at the fire.

  “Beer me.”

  “All I got is Corona. No lime.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Mike went into the kitchen and came back with a cold beer and bottled water. He handed the men their respective drinks.

  Fred was still seated, but Jim had moved over to the table. He was staring at several rough and crude blueprints. The first was a design of the neighborhood and a wall surrounding it. The other looked like a crude way of getting water from the air outside into the mouths inside. It was a filtration system.

  “These are pretty good. Were you an architect before all this?”

  “No. I’m just a man with ideas.”

  Jim took a sip of his water, and found pleasure in the cold. He scanned the neighborhood plan once again. “I like this concept, but how in the world can it be done? We have zombies crawling up and down this street everyday.”

  “We do it in shifts, a couple people guarding, several people working, we can get it done.” Mike paused and sipped on his water. “If we put up a wall around these thirty houses, get guards posted at all times. We can come out of our homes and enjoy life again. We can build a community garden. Maybe, if we are lucky, we can bring in some livestock, raise a small farm. We don’t have to give in to the zombies. They should be giving in to us.”

  “I like that thinking, but it is going to be a lot of work.”

  “Anything in this time and place is a lot of work. If we are going to survive, then we have to think outside the box. That’s why I want to do all this for Christmas this year. I want the kids in this neighborhood to wake up Christmas morning and find a present at their door. I want them to feel like Santa is still here, and he is one mean zombie killing machine that won’t let Christmas die, no matter what the situation.”

  “You don’t need to sell me or Fred on it. That’s why we’re here.”

  “I know, but I need you and Fred to understand why. So if it gets bad at the mall, you will know that what we were doing was for a good cause.”

  “I’m aware. Let’s just go over the details.”

  Fred got up and walked over to the table to join the conversation. He was one of those guys, the ones that just seem to know how to survive. He was a tall guy with a lanky build and graying hair. He had to be getting close to fifty. He had said in the life before this that he was an accountant by day, hunter by weekend. You wouldn’t think an accountant would know so much about surviving, but trust me, he did.

  Jim was more of a following kind of guy with a big heart and big ideas. He was a teacher before the world turned to crap, and I hoped that one day he could lead a school in this neighborhood. Jim was about average height, somewhere in his mid thirties, still youthful, but mature beyond his years.

  And me, dear old Mike, I stood about five foot eight, not too pudgy, not to lean. I was a runner before the world turned to chaos, a brick layer as my trade. I had learned a lot about hunting and stuff before all this happened. The biggest buck I ever shot was a ten pointer. I was proud of that one that day.

  “The details are like this.” Mike grabbed a folder he had sitting by his chair.

  In this folder were three separate compartments with each of their names on it. Inside each compartment was a list of what toys to get, a map of the area they were to cover when delivering the toys, a map of the mall (where to go in, where to meet if separated) the time they were supposed to arrive and leave, stuff they would need (weapons, snacks, a couple bottles of water, things like that), and a few other odds and ends.

  Mike handed Jim and Fred their compartments, and all three of them found a seat around the Christmas tree, which splashed and sparkled its white and colored lights. It had no idea of the world it was in. It just did what it was supposed to do, bring Christmas cheer.

  “This is pretty elaborate Mike,” Jim replied, as he studied the maps.

  “How did you get so much info?” Fred chimed in.

  “I started back in late October just after it all went to hell. I had lost some . . .” He looked up at the mantel and the picture. “. . . important things in my life and for some reason Christmas popped into my brain at the time. I don’t know why. It was hot. I was trying to survive. But as I did all that, I started thinking of Christmas. I started planning it then. I even started going to the mall in November . . .”

  “You’ve been as far as the mall? I wasn’t brave enough to go that far. Thank God for a hardware store and grocery store nearby. I don’t know what I would have done if they weren’t so close.”

  “Me either. I consider myself a pretty tough survivor, but even I haven’t been brave enough to go that far.” Fred chimed in again.

  “I just wanted to do something special, and I thought this zombie thing might last awhile. I thought, a good cause, something to work towards, might take my mind off of it.”

  “How did you find out about the kids in the neighborhood, the ones that were left of course?”

  “I went door to door. That’s how I found out about you two guys.”

  “That’s what you were doing the day we met.”

  “Out of all the homes I went to, you two were the only single guys left in the neighborhood. Everyone else either had one, two, or three kids. Every one of those families was struggling.”

  “So here we sit. Chosen because we’re single,” Jim replied.

  Fred picked up a box filled with letters (he didn’t know it, but there were twenty inside, one for each kid still left in this neighborhood). “Is this how you found out what they want?”

  “Yeah. I went back around and told them to leave a note on their door for one thing, a toy each of their kids would want, make it small, easy to carry. I told them I would be back to collect the notes in a week or so, give them time to think. So on each piece of paper is something that will give each kid in this neighborhood a little hope. I plan to deliver on that promise.”

  “So are we starting tomorrow morning?” Fred asked.

  “We are.”

  Fred was getting restless, and the day was getting later. He stood up from the chair and stretched. He took out his pistol and made sure it was loaded. “Tomorrow morning, then it is. See you then.” He collected his things.

  Mike showed him to the door. He opened it. “Be careful, we need you.”

  Fred looked out at the road, the neighborhood, zombies shambled back and forth. “There doesn’t seem to be as many these days.”

  “Maybe that is something in our favor.”

  “Hey, wait up Fred. Strength in numbers, remember.” Jim collected his things, and put on his coat. He walked over to where they were standing.

  “See you tomorrow.” Jim gripped his gun and breathed in the cool air. He made his way down the porch with his gun pointed forward. Fred gave a nod and followed Jim out the door. Mike heard several gunshots as Fred and Jim made it back to their respective houses.

  Mike closed the door and went out onto the back deck. He checked around for zombies. There were a few, but they didn’t bother him. He filled up the generator and went back inside.

  He turned off the tree to save power, stoked the fire, and then pulled out a small portable DVD player. He turned on one of his favorite TV shows – Wings, and fell asleep watching it.

  His dreams were peaceful and full of hope.

  4

  DECEMBER THE 24th

  The three men sat huddled in the cold, waiting and watching the mall parking lot. There were a lot of zombies shuffling around the open ground, some going into the mall, some coming out. Many of them were carrying shopping bags as if they had spent this day doing last minute Christmas shopping.

  It looked like a hopeless nightmare.

  “Dawn of the Dead much,” Fred replied.

  “Original or remake?” Mike responded.

  “I don’t think I can do it.” Jim gripped his shotgun a little tighter to his chest.

  “Don’t think. When we go, you go, got that.” Mike picked up his voice a bit.
If these guys needed some encouragement, then he had to be it.

  “Are we going or not?”

  Mike looked at Fred, and he had the intensity in his eyes. Mike knew he was ready.

  Fred gripped the gun a little tighter. You could almost see the muscles twitching in his legs as he geared himself up for this.

  “Yeah, Fred.” He looked over at Jim. “You ready?”

  “It’s like dancing with an electric chair. You’re never ready, but sometimes you just got to do it.”

  Mike didn’t know what that meant, but he instructed the men to get up with a slow ease. They evacuated their hiding places and made their way into the parking lot.

  The zombies noticed them in an instant and began to shuffle in their direction.

  The three guys picked up the pace, eyes on the door in front of them. When it was almost to the point of a true zombie attack, the men unleashed their weapons. Head shots a plenty began to rain blood into the air as zombie after zombie went down.

  The men rushed into the open doors, guns blazing, zombies falling.

  Mike had left a kerosene lamp sitting on one of the benches nearest the door. He grabbed it as the men continued forward. He turned it on and light flooded the unlit mall.

  “Upstairs!” Mike screamed as the men kept firing off rounds.

  They had left their shotguns behind once they were empty of ammunition. It was now down to pistols, and each shot found its mark.

  The men hurried up the escalator to the closed doors of the toy store.

  Mike pulled out a key from his pocket as Fred and Jim took aim, back to back.

  Mike unlocked the door.

  The men hurried inside.

  Mike closed the door and locked it tight.

  The zombies huddled up against the glass, but couldn’t get in.

  The men, now tired, caught their breath and tried to relax.

  “Anyone bit?” Mike checked himself with the light and then the other men. Everyone was okay.