Free The Ghosts of the Zombie Apocalypse by Greg Kayes
Authors: Greg Kayes
creak.
"Just how much...longer have you been dead?"
The man's eyes grew narrow as he moved real close to Mike and with a gravely serious slow voice he said "A Realllly. Long. Time ."
Henrietta got to the hut before the deer but only just. She could hear the stampede coming in. Fortunately the house was empty. Unfortunately the house was empty. So were the animals from their pens. At least the smart ones like the goats.
The chickens on the other hand were rushing about as the herd of deer arrived who thusly began chasing them around. But these chickens were apparently the survivors of generations of forest free range chickens. They were used to being chased by predators of all kinds including bears and possum. Skills like that made them no easy meal for the zombie deer to catch.
Henrietta sat a moment on a tree stump watching a debacle unfold as two synchronized chickens ran head on across one another's path making the chasing zombie deer collide into one another so hard that it put them out of zombie commission. The crunch she heard when they hit made her sure of that. Who would have thought that chickens would be the ultimate zombie deer killers? Not even half the survivors she'd seen held an ounce of cunning and coordination these chickens had. It was almost comical until the deer were able to catch a few.
It was then that Henrietta had seen enough. She had seen enough of what comes next to not want to see it anymore. It's was always the same. You're doing great until you get out numbered and then all you can do is run but zombies don't get tired and then you're trapped and then...
Henrietta went inside before the "and then..." and poked around. Some of the deer had ignored the chickens and busted their way into a disappointingly empty clam shell of a house. Now they tore apart and smashed all they could driven by their mad zombie deer brains with the smell of the living all over the place. She had remembered reading somewhere about how deer have a crazy good sense of smell and can smell things miles away. Well that made her feel better. That meant that the two must be miles away by now.
And now you're alone. For real this time.
Suddenly rampaging zombie deer didn't seem so interesting anymore. Which was a lie she knew but she wanted to pretend that it was. Either way the mood was ruined. Right now all she wanted was some space from all the noisy dead. Henrietta flew off into the forest back toward the only other ghostly home she had ever known.
Mike was alive, for a given value of alive for a ghost. The sharp eyed man had been swayed by his story telling abilities enough to not eat him right away and also told him to refer to him as Master. So...now he was the pet of a narcissist. Mike would be the first to admit the irony of how he, a big narcissist himself, was a slave to an even bigger one. But at least he wanted to pretend to himself that at the end he had everyone's best interest at heart before they all got eaten. He really did.
However despite recent events, it was a fascinating experience being under the terrifying wing of this cannibalistic apparition. Although given the circumstances he may just as well call him a daemon. For starters the sense of terror and awareness of his own mortality have return since he died by zombie bite. And this Master seems aptly able to live up to his name. He sure did have an overwhelmingly strong sense of freedom compared to any other ghost he's ever seen.
Freedom aside the man simply terrified him with his wit. He didn't really say much but when he did it was like an unseen assassin stabbing from the shadows strait at the heart of the subject at hand. There was no defense for it. But what scared him more was when he wasn't talking because that was when he was listening.
Mike had been smart enough in life to at least learn the difference between hearing someone talk and listening. Hearing someone is just absentmindedly
"Just how much...longer have you been dead?"
The man's eyes grew narrow as he moved real close to Mike and with a gravely serious slow voice he said "A Realllly. Long. Time ."
Henrietta got to the hut before the deer but only just. She could hear the stampede coming in. Fortunately the house was empty. Unfortunately the house was empty. So were the animals from their pens. At least the smart ones like the goats.
The chickens on the other hand were rushing about as the herd of deer arrived who thusly began chasing them around. But these chickens were apparently the survivors of generations of forest free range chickens. They were used to being chased by predators of all kinds including bears and possum. Skills like that made them no easy meal for the zombie deer to catch.
Henrietta sat a moment on a tree stump watching a debacle unfold as two synchronized chickens ran head on across one another's path making the chasing zombie deer collide into one another so hard that it put them out of zombie commission. The crunch she heard when they hit made her sure of that. Who would have thought that chickens would be the ultimate zombie deer killers? Not even half the survivors she'd seen held an ounce of cunning and coordination these chickens had. It was almost comical until the deer were able to catch a few.
It was then that Henrietta had seen enough. She had seen enough of what comes next to not want to see it anymore. It's was always the same. You're doing great until you get out numbered and then all you can do is run but zombies don't get tired and then you're trapped and then...
Henrietta went inside before the "and then..." and poked around. Some of the deer had ignored the chickens and busted their way into a disappointingly empty clam shell of a house. Now they tore apart and smashed all they could driven by their mad zombie deer brains with the smell of the living all over the place. She had remembered reading somewhere about how deer have a crazy good sense of smell and can smell things miles away. Well that made her feel better. That meant that the two must be miles away by now.
And now you're alone. For real this time.
Suddenly rampaging zombie deer didn't seem so interesting anymore. Which was a lie she knew but she wanted to pretend that it was. Either way the mood was ruined. Right now all she wanted was some space from all the noisy dead. Henrietta flew off into the forest back toward the only other ghostly home she had ever known.
Mike was alive, for a given value of alive for a ghost. The sharp eyed man had been swayed by his story telling abilities enough to not eat him right away and also told him to refer to him as Master. So...now he was the pet of a narcissist. Mike would be the first to admit the irony of how he, a big narcissist himself, was a slave to an even bigger one. But at least he wanted to pretend to himself that at the end he had everyone's best interest at heart before they all got eaten. He really did.
However despite recent events, it was a fascinating experience being under the terrifying wing of this cannibalistic apparition. Although given the circumstances he may just as well call him a daemon. For starters the sense of terror and awareness of his own mortality have return since he died by zombie bite. And this Master seems aptly able to live up to his name. He sure did have an overwhelmingly strong sense of freedom compared to any other ghost he's ever seen.
Freedom aside the man simply terrified him with his wit. He didn't really say much but when he did it was like an unseen assassin stabbing from the shadows strait at the heart of the subject at hand. There was no defense for it. But what scared him more was when he wasn't talking because that was when he was listening.
Mike had been smart enough in life to at least learn the difference between hearing someone talk and listening. Hearing someone is just absentmindedly