Free Undead Honeymoon by Austin Quinn Page A

mine.     
     
    It’s a horrible feeling, wondering how your life will end. Even worse is actually knowing. I was going to die at the hands of an undead corpse, during what was supposed to be the happiest time of my life. 
     
    In my terror I’d forgotten about Finn, and the fact that he had a weapon. He came down on the corpse’s arm and sliced it clean off from the elbow. I almost fell backward as the hand released its grip and fell to the floor. Finn didn’t hesitate, and I watched as he plunged the knife into the former chef’s temple. I felt dizzy as I watched its lifeless form crumble to the floor next to the severed arm. A dark, tar like liquid oozed out of its wounds as I stared in horror.
     
    “Lily!” Finn yelled as he grabbed my chin and locked eyes with me. “We have to go now!”
     
    I nodded as the smell nearly made me get sick again. 
     
    We made our way to the end of the nearest buffet lane. My screams had awoken the group we’d spotted earlier, and they’d closed most of the distance between us. They reached through the opposite side of the buffet, their fingertips brushing against us as we reached the kitchen door. Finn turned the handle and kicked the heavy door inward just as one started to climb under the display glass.   
     
    We were just a couple feet inside when he turned and looked me over. “Are you okay?” he asked hurriedly. I nodded, and he led me to a nearby counter. After making sure I really was okay he sprinted toward the closest food cart, the ones the crewmembers use to restock the buffets. He pushed it against the door and tipped it on its side. I winced as the cart crashed down with a horrible CLANG . The sound of metal against metal echoed through the kitchen as he pushed it against the door.
     
    “Don’t worry,” Finn breathed heavily. “I barricaded the other three doors when I was here the first time, so there’s no other way for them to get in.”
     
     
    It took almost the whole day before I decided to write about what happened. Finn is setting up a makeshift bed for us on one of the countertops. He used bags of clean aprons and oven mitts for a mattress and pillows. It would be kind of cute if I wasn’t so stressed about all the things trying to kill and eat us.
     
    What’s worse is that they’re just outside the doors, waiting.
     
    I’m not sure what’s going to happen to us next, but at least we’re in the kitchen. It’s not riddled with bullets and there’s a dry storage area that’s stocked with enough food to keep us fed until doomsday.
     
    I just hope it isn’t sooner rather than later...  
     
     
     
    August 23 rd
     
    Waiting around in a kitchen is not fun. I will admit that it’s better than our cabin, but not by much.
     
    Finn found a radio the cooks had hanging near the soup tubs, but the only station he’s gotten so far is some kind of French talk show. It sounds like French, anyways, neither of us are sure.
     
    There’s a wall clock over the door we came through, and I’m not sure it’s a good thing. I keep looking at the second hand, willing time to move faster. It’s been eight grueling hours, and we haven’t heard anything outside the doors since this morning. For a moment Finn said he heard something shuffling, but nothing else. We think the corpses near the buffet line have lost interest in us, for now.
     
    My experience with the dead chef woman still has me a little shaken. Every time I think about her face I want to cry. Her eyes seemed so sad, almost like a doll’s eyes. It was as if she wanted to be alive, but knew there was no turning back from what she’d become. 
     
    Finn keeps trying to comfort me by saying she wasn’t a person anymore, and there was nothing we could have done. But the thing is, she was a person. Just a couple weeks ago she was no different from me, and now she’s dead.
     
    I really wish we were home.
     
     
     
    August 25 th
     
    I desperately need a bath, or better yet a