Free Zombified (Episode 1): Wooneyville by Matt Di Spirito

open.  "She was attacked and bit by one of them."  Joey drained half the beer and belched.
    "I'm sorry to hear that, kid--I really am."  Hank took a swig and shook his head.
    "She's not dead--or undead--yet.  She was sick, but she was still alive when I locked her in the spare room."
    "Our spare room?  That's a little risky, Joe.  What did Ma say?"
    Joey drained the rest of the beer, tossing the can into the fire.  He opened a second one.  "She didn't like it, but I told her not to open the door no matter what she heard.  If she listens, then I'll deal with whatever happens when I get back."
    "I guess that's the only thing you could have done." 
    They sat in silence for a while, listening to the thunder rumble and the zombies groan and pound.  Flashes punctuated the dancing firelight.
    "Pop, I saw dead bodies coming back.  I mean, dead bodies.  I ran into one of them at the medical center.  It was long dead, charred to a crisp.  It wouldn't go down.  I hacked it apart, Pop, and it kept coming."  Joey stared into the fire.  "I don't know what's causing this shit, but that wasn't like these things."  He waved at the walls.  "What could make buried bodies, people that died years ago, come back?  Diseases can't do that, can they?"
    "That's the first I heard about that, Joe."  Hank sipped his beer, rocking slightly in the chair.  "I suppose Dana or one of them folks at the center would have known more about it."
    "Dana was trying to sort it out with one of the doctors--and her friend Kelly--before the center was overrun.  She started talking about it before she passed out."  Joey guzzled his second beer and pitched the empty into the flames.
    "Did you learn anything?"
    "She thought it might be some sort of parasite or something like that.  I didn't really understand it all."  Joey mulled it over, trying to remember what she'd said.  "Something that gets in the body and hijacks the nervous system.  She said people just stopped breathing… like those automatic systems were cut."
    Hank whistled.  "That's over my head.  It couldn't have just popped up out of nowhere, right?  Is it one of those superbugs they talk about?"
    "I really don't know, Pop.  Maybe it's some government experiment gone wrong."
    Hank huffed and shook his head.  "That wouldn't surprise me one bit.  They can't even keep the roads paved."
    "I dunno."  Joey cracked another beer.  "It's those dead and buried bodies that freak me out.  Viruses, bacteria, experiments gone wrong--it makes sense for us, for the living that are exposed, but for bodies six feet under?"
    "There's got to be some explanation, Joe.  I don't buy into any of that religious doomsday bullcrap."  Hank cracked another beer and slurped the foam from the top.
    Lightning flashed and a rip of thunder followed close behind, shaking the room.  Glass rattled in the windows and a lamp toppled off the corner table, smashing on the floor.
    "Sounds like the storm is moving in right over our head," Hank said, glancing up at the ceiling.  "Good thing I fixed the roof last year."
    "Leaks are the least of our worries, Pop."  Joey got up and made his rounds past the windows, the front door, and through the bedrooms. 
    Another burst of light and rip of thunder boomed; a painting fell from the wall and the fridge rattled against the wall.
    "Pop," Joey called from the kitchen window, "are there any old trees within striking distance of the cabin?" 
    Hank got up from the leather rocker and stood behind Joey.  "Now that you mention it, there were three or four of them starting to rot out."  He peered over Joey's shoulder, pointing towards a thick chestnut tree twenty yards from the house.  "I was going to clear them out this summer."
    "Where are the others?"  Joey followed Hank to the front windows, where Hank pointed out two more large trees in need of culling.  The last was behind the guest bedroom at the back of the cabin.
    "Pop, we may want to consider loading up and