Free Zombie Bitches From Hell by Zoot Campbell Page A

there like Mother
Teresa from Hell.
    “We’re fucked, good buddy,” says Tim. I think
he’s right.
    Two of the nuns start lapping at the vomit on
the one’s head. The rest begin their howling and start for the
stairs. We head for the window.
    It’s locked and we can hear the shrieking,
howling bullshit and the clunking of the undead feet on the stairs,
the Mother Superior shouting in some hideous garbled language.
    Tim picks up the small nightstand and jams it
through the window, knocking the glass, the mullions and the frame
out like it was hit with dynamite.
    “It’s a long drop,” I say.
    Tim climbs out but I see him standing there
beckoning me out. There’s a ledge he’s standing on. I climb out and
we side walk our way along the ledge and rain gutter to a huge
copper downspout. It’s like a firepole. Tim shimmies down as I see
the bitches climbing out after us. I fire a round from my pistol
but the damn thing bucks and I blast a hole through the shingles
above. Fuck it, I can’t shoot well while trying to play Spider-Man.
I follow Tim and we’re on the ground as the first nun bitch reaches
the downspout and goes flying down it like a sack of shit wrapped
in white and black gift paper. Tim is in the station wagon and it
looks like he’s going to take off without me, but instead he turns
the key and rams the nun bitch between the bumper and the side of
the building and her eyes pop out of her head and hang there by the
threads which ooze that tar-like black shit. He puts it in reverse
and she collapses, then puts it in gear again and floors it,
hitting her so hard while she’s crumbled that her ribs pop out
through her habit and the downspout, which is what he was aiming at
to begin with, comes down but with the Mother Superior hanging on
to it. The others are on the ledge but start heading back through
the window, which means they’ll be pouring through the door in a
few seconds.
    “Time to go, buddy,” I yell. But the Mother
Superior bitch is on the hood of the car now and beating her head
against the windshield to try to break it to get to Tim. He moves
forward by flooring it again and jams on the brakes. She slides off
but as she goes over the hood ornament, it slashes open her face,
pulling some stringy arteries, veins and nerves along with it. She
drops off the end of the hood but leaps upper faster than you can
say, “Hail Mary” and she’s on the attack again.
    Tim jumps out of the car and I figure he’s
going to run for it, but, no, he’s on the offensive. I slide in to
the driver’s side while he pulls the bitch off the hood. She’s
snapping like a mad dog in fast motion, the grinding clacking teeth
going a mile a second. He wrestles her off but she clamps down on
the window of the open car door and crunches the safety glass into
a billion little jewels. He punches her in the face where the gash
is and her eye gets pushed back into her head.
    “Get ready,” Tim yells. But I’m seeing
bitches staggering out of the door as if the condition of the
Mother Superior has made them loopy. They’re actually groping and
bumbling around, arms outstretched like in a grade B movie.
    “Better hurry,” I yell.
    He drags the Mother Superior to the ground
while she kicks and screams and pieces of glass fly out of her
mouth like popcorn in a popper and holds her head under the wheel
of the car.
    “Back it up slow,” he shouts. I do and I can
feel the crunch of something under the wheel which is, of course,
her fucking head.
    “Go, dude, go,” he says. I gun it and I can
feel the squash of skull and brains.
    Tim runs around and jumps in the back as the
first nun bitches stumble over to us. We fly out of there and stop
a hundred feet away. The undead nuns are gathered around the body
of Mother Superior and trying to put the brain back in the head and
one of them is holding the jaw and kissing it as she tries to fit
it to where the bitch’s mouth used to be.
    “Man, look at that shit,” Tim