Free Aliens Versus Zombies by Mark Terence Chapman

Villa, Jesse Jefferson, and Chrissy Montoni. And we came here to meet you.”
    “Me? I don’t know any of you.
    “Not you, specifically; your people. We need to talk.”
    “What makes you think we’d be interested in anything you have to say?”
    “I suppose you’ve seen the aliens around the city?”
    The other man nodded. “Yeah, so?”
    “But have you seen the armed zombies?”
    “Armed zom—? What the hell ya talking about?”
    “I thought you might say that. That’s why we need to talk to your leader.”
    “So talk.”
    “You’re the leader? Is this all the people you have left? It was a much bigger group the last time I was around here.”
    “It’s big enough to get the job done.”
    Daniels shook his head. “If this is all you have left, then it’s already too late.”
    The woman looked at the man. “Tony, maybe we should take them to see Geoff.”
    “Shut up Kitty! You’re givin’ too much away.”
    “Tony,” Daniels interrupted, “Kitty’s right. You really need to take us to Geoff.”
    Tony glared at Kitty. “See? Now they know our names.”
    Kitty glared back. “So? What good’s our names gonna do them? Let’s just take them to Geoff and let him figure out what to do with them.”
    Tony pursed his lips. “Fine.” He gestured at Daniels’ group with his hunting rifle. “Get up. Hands on your heads. And no monkey business. I got no reason to keep you four alive. You give me any trouble, and I’ll leave your corpses here for the zombies to pick clean.”
    Daniels and the others did as he commanded.
    “We’re not here to make trouble. Just to talk,” Daniels said.
    “Fine. Talk later. For now, shut up and walk out the back door. Kitty, John, take the lead and shoot anyone who even looks like they’re makin’ a break for it.”
    “Right.” Kitty and John went first, followed by Daniels and the rest of the quartet, and then Tony and the two unnamed people.
    “We’re off to see the wizard,” Jesse muttered under his breath.
     
    * * * *
     
    Jesse Jedediah Jefferson was born the youngest of eight children to a hellfire-and-brimstone Baptist preacher. He grew up spending every Sunday attending revival meetings under a tent in the hot Mississippi sun. He’d much rather have spent his Sundays playing baseball with his friends. His father would have none of it. Idle hands were the Devil’s workshop, he’d say, followed by chapter and verse: Proverbs 16:27-29 . Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, he’d say. And he’d threaten to put the fear of God in his son at the very idea of gamboling on the Sabbath.
    Jesse grew up simultaneously fearing God and hating religion. After his sophomore year of high school, he dropped out, much to the embarrassment of his parents, left home and never returned. He got a job as a carwash attendant in Birmingham, Alabama. The pay was shit, but the work was honest.
    One thing he did learn from his father was the value of hard work. He also learned not to hold onto things too tightly, because one day they might be gone.
    When the zombie plague struck, he recognized early on that it was going to be bad. He stuffed a backpack full of clothing, tied a rolled up blanket around his waist, bought a black-market revolver and some bullets with half of the cash he’d squirreled away for emergencies, and hitchhiked out of the city and into the country.
    He found an abandoned farm with a reasonably dry barn, and lived alone for months, only seeing anyone when he hiked to the edge of the nearest town to buy food. Eventually there was no one left to sell him food, so he took what he could find. Twice he’d had to fend off hungry Zoms. Eventually he decided he’d had enough and walked out of there, heading north, just to see what was going on in the world.
    What he found shocked him. He had no idea things had gotten so bad. Mangled, rotting carcasses littered the streets of the small towns he passed through. He was fortunate not to have run into the